


An Englishman with the Avengers

by Lannister418



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Death, F/M, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Thor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 106,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lannister418/pseuds/Lannister418
Summary: The story commences approximately three weeks after the events of Thor, The Dark World.  Rejected by Jane, a distraught and grieving Thor rescues Dr Ainsley Kerr, a brilliant young British psychologist, from a brutal homophobic attack.  In the days and weeks that follow, the Asgardian finds comfort, friendship and love in the young man's company.When called back to New York to rejoin the Avengers, Thor brings his new lover with him and the doctor is drawn into the lives of the Avengers and the covert lethal world that surrounds them.  Past secrets and present dangers merge into a web of love, violence and betrayal that affects them all, but none more than the brave, damaged, assassin Hawkeye.Characters are based on the MCU and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters which are copyright to Marvel.  The character of Hawkeye/Clint Barton has been aged down from the MCU character and his backstory is significantly different for plot reasons.The story has it's own arc and timeline which does not follow that of the movies subsequent to Thor TDW





	1. Trauma

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that throughout the story there will be explicit eroticism although no outright pornography, as well as descriptions of violence, torture, references to rape and recreational drug use. None of these are intended to be gratuitous but an integral part of the developing storyline.  
> Super-powered characters (Thor, Captain America, The Hulk etc) have had their abilities 'tuned down' slightly for plot reasons and because I find it makes them more interesting to write for. Invulnerability is an uninteresting character trait in my opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rejected by Jane after the defeat of the Dark Elves; a traumatised Thor rescues Dr Ainsley Kerr, a brilliant and wealthy British psychologist, from a brutal attack. The grieving, distraught, demi-god finds comfort, friendship and love in the gentle doctor’s company and both are forced to make a choice when Tony Stark re-appears on the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter contains a non-graphic description of homophobic violence and explicit homo-eroticism  
> Passages in italics are characters’ direct internal monologues.  
> In terms of the Timeline the Dark Elf attack on London is taken as occurring in late March 2013. The events described in the chapter cover the period late March to mid/late May of that year in the universe of the story

“You just don’t understand us; perhaps you never can…”

Jane’s last words before she closed him out of her life kept echoing around in Thor’s head as he walked and walked without resting. He had tried, he truly had, in the days after the defeat of the Dark Elves, to reclaim what had existed between them when he was first sent to the world of Midgard, but the sense of pain and abandonment she felt was too deep.  Perhaps if he had sought her out after the Avengers had battled Loki and the Chitauri there might have been a chance, but surely she had to see that he had his duty to take his brother for punishment and protect Midgard from further harm, to restore peace to the Nine Worlds after the breaking of Bifrost?

Could she not understand? What he had lost. What he had given up.

It was hard to comprehend Midgardian emotions; they seemed drawn with finer strokes here, subtle and easily misunderstood like so many things about this perplexing, primitive, complex world he loved so much.  Or perhaps it was him, maybe Fandral or Sif would be more adept at dealing with such things.  Perhaps he was still the spoilt, thoughtless, wilful child Odin once accused him of being.  He flexed his hand instinctively, feeling Mjolnir respond in its distant hiding place, and relaxed it again.  The Hammer’s measure of his worth was clearly different to his own.

His aimless walking had taken him deep into the fields and farmlands of this Midgardian realm called Britain, sleeping villages, ancient stone towns with towers and bells, green rolling hills.  Still different to the world of Asgard but somehow less alien, quieter and almost comforting, until he realised that he was wandering back into the royal city they called London.

Something called him back from his painful thoughts.  It was night and he was in an open space of some sort, trees and bushes, with the lights of dwelling places around the edge.  He heard it again, the sounds of violence and a cry for help.

There!  He could see them under a tree by the path, three men kicking and punching at a fourth lying curled on the ground, trying to protect his head with his arms.

“HEY!!!”

The three paused in their beating and turned to see a big figure racing towards them.  They scattered in different directions as Thor dropped to a crouch beside the prone man, still curled in a foetal position shaking with fear.  He flinched as Thor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It is all right” He pitched his voice softly “They have gone. You are safe. I will help you.”

The man reached for some fragments of metal and glass beside his head

“Shit!” he sobbed “the bastards broke my new glasses”

Thor helped him to sit up.  The man was slim, light-haired and young.  His clothes, although dirty and torn from the attack, were of a style and cut that the Asgardian had come to think of as characteristic of wealthier Midgardians.  He was still shaken and disoriented so Thor continued to repeat his words of re-assurance, finding some distraction from his own pain in helping one in need.

The fright and confusion starting to diminish, Dr Ainsley Kerr began to focus on the man who crouched beside him and the words he was saying.  He could discern a handsome, powerfully built man in his early 20s with a strong square face, short, well-trimmed fair beard and long hair tied back in a ponytail, speaking with the clear precision that indicated English was not his first language.

“Th-thank you s-so very mu-much” he managed to stammer, placing a grateful hand on his rescuer’s arm. 

“Can you stand?” Enquired Thor, Ainsley nodded slightly

“I-I think so, with a bit of help”

Thor put his arms around the other man, lifting him carefully to his feet and steadying him as he staggered.

“Is your dwelling near here?  I will take you there and make sure you are safe.”

Ainsley could feel the dizziness and nausea of shock swimming through him and he leaned against Thor for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 

“You will be all right” he assured him “I will take you home”

“Thank you” replied the shaken young doctor “You’re very kind.  My flat is just on the other side of the park”

The man’s voice was pleasing, and well-modulated, despite the attack he had undergone.  On Asgard such a manner of speech was often the mark of a Bard or Lorekeeper.  Thor felt an inward surge of anger.  Violence against a man or woman of learning was unthinkable.  Back home the perpetrator would lose a hand at the very least. 

“Take your time” He said gently “I will support you”

They made their way slowly through the park towards the lights at the edge.  As Ainsley gradually got steadier on his feet Thor needed to support him less, although he kept a protective arm around his shoulder.  Under the soft sodium yellow of the streetlights, Ainsley could see his saviour more clearly.  Casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and a grey hoodie that did nothing to disguise the strength and power of his body.  At least a head taller than him and with an agile, confident step. 

_Looks like my fairy godmother’s working overtime tonight_

Thor glanced at him with a friendly smile.  Despite the blood and dirt on his face the man he had rescued was as pleasing of face as of speech, with short curling sandy brown hair and eyes of a soft grey colour.  Something of his look reminded him of a kinsman who had died young.  A maker of verse taken from them before his gift could find full flower.

The dwellings around them were of three or four stories in height, of brick and stone, most unlike the massive towers he knew from New York City.  Many of them stood around their own green space and through their lighted windows he could see people at rest or play.

It suddenly struck Thor that he had rarely seen the ordinary folk of Midgard going about their daily lives.  The closest he had been to them until now had been as they fled past him in terror from some assault on their world, but here he was their midst as they laughed with friends and family, ate, played games and watched entertainments on the luminous screens they valued so much. 

“This is where I live” Ainsley said, pointing at a four-story house of red brick “My flat’s on the top floor, can I be a real pain and ask you to help me up the stairs?  You can come in for a beer if you have the time.”

Thor smiled broadly

“It will not be a ‘pain’ to help you into your home. And yes.  I would enjoy drinking a beer with you.”

Thor sat perched on the edge of a couch in the living room of the flat, casting his gaze around as Ainsley washed off the dirt and put on some clean clothes.  There were many books lining the walls, and what appeared to be scrolls from some place of learning in wooden frames.  In the bay of the window was a large desk with writing implements, a computer and many pieces of paper covered in notes.

“You are a scholar” he stated, rather than asked, as the other man returned in clean jeans and T shirt.  In one hand, he had two large dark bottles and in the other a white box marked with a red cross.  Thor recognised that as a Midgardian sign for materials used in the treating of a wound. 

“Of a sort” he said with a smile, handing Thor a beer and opening the first aid kit

“Thank you. May I help you with your wounds?” he asked “I have some skill in that.”

“It’s ok thanks, I can manage myself.  You’ve already done plenty for me tonight.  By the way, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself.  Ainsley Kerr, and I’m very grateful to you for your help.”

Thor paused for a moment, unsure of what effect saying his name might have.

“I am pleased to meet you Ainsley Kerr, I am Thor Odinson.”

This seemed to bring no reaction from Ainsley who continued applying salve and dressings to the cuts and scrapes on his face and hands.

“Ah, you’re Icelandic? I suspected you might be of Nordic origin”

“I am a visitor” Thor replied cautiously.

Ainsley sat back and took a swig of beer

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m trained to notice things professionally.  I’m a psychologist by trade, so body language, speech patterns and so on are things I have an annoying habit of picking up on.  Difficult to switch off” He smiled and took another swig

Thor sat back, a sense of relief and relaxation flowing through him.  This man thought he was a Midgardian like him, only from another land.  He took a mouthful of the beer.  Stronger and more complex in flavour than what he had drunk here before.  He looked at the bottle and tried to pronounce the name

“Fra-Ock?”

“It’s pronounced Frooch” Ainsley explained “Made from heather – an old recipe from Scotland. Ever had it before?”

“No.  It is very pleasant.  So, you are a healer of souls?”  He had heard this word “psychologist” before in New York.  It seemed to denote someone who dealt with the sicknesses of the mind that could not be seen.

“That’s quite a poetic way of putting it” grinned Ainsley.  The anaesthetic effect of the beer was beginning to take hold and he could feel the tension slipping.  Having a drop-dead gorgeous Viking on the couch across from him didn’t hurt either.

Thor frowned slightly

“Those men, why did they attack you?”  The thought of this hospitable and fair-spoken healer being assailed in such a cowardly fashion made the anger stir in him again.

Ainsley shuddered slightly

“Local queerbashers I guess.  I should know better than to cross the park at this time of night, but you never really expect these things to happen.

“Queerbashers?”  The word meant nothing to Thor.  The frustrating thing about the Allspeak was the way it would translate the words but rarely the subtleties of meaning to be found in local dialects. 

“Thugs who get some kick out of beating up gay men and women.  Although anyone that seems a bit different and unlikely to fight back is usually fair game as well”

“These cowards attack men and women who are merry?” Thor was thoroughly confused now, was merriment breaking some local taboo?

“Gay is also used to mean homosexual – men who have sex with men and women who have sex with women”

Ainsley found Thor’s apparent naivety interesting.  It was unlikely that some English colloquialisms would be taught in Icelandic schools but he assumed that Gay was universal these days.  It was as if the big guy across from him knew all the words but none of the context, possibly suggesting a psychological block at work.

_Damn, I wish I could turn off my inner analyser sometimes_

he took another swig of beer while Thor processed this new information.

“You were attacked just because you lie with other men?  That is madness!”

Thor was genuinely shocked.  He had never lain with another man himself but knew kin and comrades who did, just as he knew that some maidens of Asgard preferred the company of their own kind.  The idea that such a thing could be considered a reason for brutal violence was ugly and sickening.

“Is such violence common here?”

Ainsley sighed

“Not as much as it used to be, thankfully, but it still occurs” He saluted Thor with his half-empty bottle “If there were more guys like you around it would happen even less!”

Thor smiled warmly

“You are a man of great courtesy and kindness.  I am glad that I could come to your aid”

The two men continued talking and drinking into the small hours, until Thor noticed that his new friend’s head was beginning to nod slightly

“It is very late and you must need to sleep” he said “Is there an inn or…” he searched for the right word “…a hostel near here where I can find a bed?” after walking for days non-stop he realised that he too was finally in need of rest.

Ainsley pulled himself to his feet

“Look, you seem pretty shattered as well and there isn’t anywhere nearby.  I can make you up a bed on the couch if you’re ok with that?”

Thor smiled, happy that he would get to spend more time with this Midgardian he felt so comfortable speaking to.

“Yes. Thank you. I am ok with that.”

###

Ainsley stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, his thoughts mulling over the events of the night, the argument with Jess earlier that evening about his withdrawal from clinical work, the attack and then the encounter with the intriguing Icelander sleeping in the living room. 

_Thor Odinson, really?_

For the last year, every fanboy who could manage a scrap of ginger fluff on his chin was using that name.  The embarrassed pause before he said it spoke volumes.  Still, he could carry it off better than most.  Considering the attempt to express complex feelings in a different language, there was a dissociative quality to what he was saying.  Not lying as such but avoiding complete truths.

He had talked about the recent, very recent, deaths of his mother and brother trying to keep his voice steady.  Dealing with fresh grief, the psychic wound still raw and bloody.

_I remember the state I was in when Izzie was killed_

Some sort of rift or separation from the father, differences over the girlfriend maybe.  The suggestion that there was a racial difference.

_Giving up my birth right, very biblical.  Some right-wing religious background he’s broken from?_

The girlfriend dumping him, forcefully and finally by the sound of it… speaking as if he deserved it while still being uncertain of what he had done wrong. 

There was mention of the attack on London, obviously.  Things were finally starting to recover from the terror of that late March afternoon.  Hard to believe it had been less than three weeks ago.  He’d been on his way to the University to collect some files when that _thing_ descended; the sky tearing open like New York a year ago, fighter jets in the air, aerial battles over the city, debris crashing into the streets and flames rising from the dome of St Paul’s. 

He’d stumbled down into the Underground seeking refuge along with thousands of others, locals and tourists, hoping for the same miracle that saved New York to come to their aid.  Every road out of the city gridlocked as people abandoned their vehicles and fled on foot.

The city had settled back down into its normal routines but scars remained.  Greenwich University was still sealed off, swarming with forensic scientists and men in dark suits; St Pauls and the Gherkin clad in scaffolding.

Not the best environment for someone in a ‘normal’ frame of mind, let alone an emotionally damaged young man already dealing with severe trauma.  There had been sightings of the real Thor that day. 

_Is that why he’s using the name?_

Taking the archetypal image of the Worthy Hero to shield himself from the pain of his own fractured personality?  That made a lot of sense in the circumstances.  Professor Feldermann would have relished this.  Mythic interruptions in psychic crisis had been his last great fascination.

No surprise the poor guy was disconnected and so desperately in search of assurance.  Sensible Dr Kerr was saying _“Find him some psychiatric help first thing tomorrow”_ but the Dr Kerr who had just walked out of a £65,000 a year clinical position in protest at the abuse of chemical therapy had very different ideas.

###

Thor shifted slightly, the springs of the couch creaking as they adjusted to his weight.  It had been a night of surprises.  The encounter with Dr Ainsley Kerr and their long conversation, telling as much of his pain as he felt capable of, feeling comfortable and accepted in his company.  The Midgardian soul-healer had been quiet and attentive, allowing him to speak freely with the occasional gentle prompt, sharing pieces of his own tragedy and loss.  He had not expected such a meeting. 

The pleasure the man felt in his company was obvious to Thor even in his troubled state.  It was clear that he desired him yet such physical contact they had was correct and friendly.  This ‘doctor’ as they called their healers here had the control not to surrender to his desire.

Thor folded his arms behind his head and sighed.  Laying down with another man had never occurred to him; as Prince of Asgard he never lacked for willing maidens to share his bed, but it must be a pleasurable thing or men would not do it.  He smiled.  The thought of lying with Dr Ainsley Kerr was an enjoyable one.

Perhaps some working of Fate was taking place here bringing him to the place and the man that he needed.

###

“Morning Mr. Sleepyhead!  Fancy some break…” Thor had come padding into the kitchen naked. Very. Impressively. Naked. “…fast?”

Thor had slept long and felt rested and refreshed.

“Thank you. Yes.  Breakfast would be good”

“Okay! Well, there’s a pot of tea brewing and I’ll see what we have in the cupboard.” Whatever issues Thor was dealing with; physicality and body image did not seem to be on the list

_Eyes above the waist, Ainsley!_

“Ah! Poptarts!” Thor exclaimed with childlike glee, seeing a familiar looking package on one of the shelves.

“As you please!” Said Ainsley, unwrapping a couple and sticking them in the toaster.  Thor gave a slight expression of surprise at seeing them put into the slots in the top of a colourful metal box “Oh, sorry!  Did you not want them toasted?”

“Are they meant to be ‘toasted’?” This was something no-one had ever mentioned to him.

“I guess that why they call them Poptarts, you ‘pop’ them in the toaster and they ‘pop’ up when they’re ready”

Thor grinned, that did make sense. 

“Toasted will be good”

The beverage called ‘Tea’ must be a custom of this Land of Britain, he had not encountered it in New Mexico or New York.  It was refreshing, with a warm herbal taste, and the Poptarts were better toasted.  Thor tucked in hungrily while Ainsley sipped his tea, pondering what to do.

“Do you have any plans for today?” He asked casually “I’m pretty much a free agent now so if you felt like hanging around we could continue our chat”

Thor thought for a moment.  The suggestion freed him from trying to think of his own reason to stay with the young doctor. 

“We could drink coffee? I will buy you some to say thank you.” That was a good idea.  He had liked the stimulating drink since first encountering it, and it seemed to be a popular Midgardian bonding ritual at times when custom dictated it was not proper or too early to drink alcohol

“That sounds great!” smiled Ainsley “I need to get a few things from the shops anyway and there’s a great little café just off the high street”

“Excellent” Thor leapt to his feet “Shall we go now?”

“Maybe put some clothes on first?”

###

They had come to a local merchant quarter, many small shops filled with a great variety of foodstuffs and manufactured goods.  Thor watched with interest as Ainsley bought fruits, vegetables and spices; selecting the choicest produce with a practised eye and skilful hand, multi-coloured paper noted and coins changing hands.  The smells, colours and sounds of the busy streets and lanes were fascinating to him; people from all parts of Midgard thronged the streets of this ancient city, musicians and performers entertained small groups on every corner.

It felt more familiar to him than any other part of Midgard he had seen.  There were districts such as this in Asgard, where the Realms came to do business and trade.  He had often wandered through them in common garb, enjoying the bustle and the anonymity.

The ‘café’ was a small shop filled with tables and benches, strong with the smell of the beverage and the spicy pastries sold there.  He pulled out the wallet Tony had given him when the Iron Man had come to London with his proposal.  He had rejected him then, thinking he still might have a different path.

“Oh, those are US Dollars” Ainsley said “Have you got any UK money?”

Thor shook his head

“No. Can I not use these here?” He would not be able to buy his new friend the promised treat. The look of disappointment on his face was obvious. 

“It’s ok” Ainsley assured him, patting his arm “I’ll get this, we can go to the post office, change some money and you can buy us lunch instead”

“Yes. I will buy us lunch instead” He did not know what this ‘post office’ was or what ‘changing money’ entailed, but he was glad he had not let Ainsley down and grateful once again for his kind patience.  He felt foolish and a bit angry.  Why had Tony not given him money of the Land of Britain? Was this another of the Iron Man’s jokes to make him seem stupid and small?

Shawarma would not normally have been the doctor’s choice for an early lunch, or indeed any other meal, unless you could count post-clubbing munchies as a ‘meal’, but Thor had seen it on the sign of the kebab house next to the post office and so nothing else could be considered.

_Maybe it’s considered a delicacy in Reykjavik_

Thor paused halfway through munching a mouthful

“Tell me” he asked, his words slightly muffled by the meat and bread he was still chewing “why did the lady with the headscarf give me fewer Pounds than I gave her Dollars? Is that her fee? If so it seems very high”

Ainsley sighed inwardly, the constant questions were a bit of a challenge and he wasn’t sure he could explain the workings of the international exchange rates at lunch or any other time

“Um, not really. You see Pounds are worth more than Dollars” Thor still looked puzzled

“Well £1 is worth $1.32 just now, so if you had $132 you would get £100 in exchange but you could buy the same number of goods with each.”

Thor’s face brightened

“I understand now.  Your money is worth more because the Land of Britain is wealthier than the Land of America. Is that because you have a King and they do not?”

“We actually have a Queen, but I guess that’s as good an explanation as any I’ve heard.  It’s all just numbers to me.”

Thor took another mouthful and munched happily, absorbing this information and adding it to his growing picture of the place in which he found himself.  It made perfect sense, an old and prosperous realm such as the Land of Britain, with its cheerful merchants and refined scholars like Ainsley could not help but be under the rule of a line of wise and benign Sovereign Ladies.

He thought of his mother, of Frigga’s deep wisdom and gentle courtesy, and felt the guilt and grief rising in him again.  Wait, Ainsley was saying something

“You know it’s probably not a good idea to carry that much money around with you”

When he had been guiding Thor through the business of changing money he couldn’t avoid noticing that his wallet was bulging with $100 dollar bills.  There had to be nearly $10,000 in there.

“Is it not safe?” Thor grinned “I can take care of myself”

“No doubt about that, but you’re forgetting pick-pockets” he pre-empted the question “Thieves who can sneak valuables out of your pockets”

Thor nodded.  This was true indeed.

“What do you suggest?”

“I think I have a money belt back at the flat.  You can use that”

Thor nodded in agreement, glad they would be returning to Ainsley’s dwelling.  He had thought of a strategy which might allow him to enjoy this wise and generous man’s company longer.

###

“How do I use this?” Asked Thor, examining the belt-like fabric apparatus. Ainsley took it from him

“You put your money in this pocket here and close it with these buttons here.  You wear it under your clothes, so if you lift up your shirt and raise your arms I’ll sure you how to put it on.”

“Like this?” Thor pulled off his T-shirt in a single fluid move and tossed it onto the table.  He leaned back against the kitchen worktop with his arms folded behind his head, displaying a torso rippling with powerful, solid, muscle

“Sort of!” gasped Ainsley, his mouth going dry.  The pose was enticing, erotic.  In another set of circumstances, he would have read a clear invitation but this guy seemed so happily open about his physicality that he could not risk making that assumption.

_No naughty touching!_

“Okay, you put the pocket here like this” Ainsley positioned it carefully against the flat, taut stomach with its tantalising trail of blond hair leading down under the waistband.  Thor just smiled and nodded

_I’m beginning to think this guy knows exactly what he’s doing._

“Then you fasten it behind your back like this” Because of Thor’s position he had to reach around his waist, the movement bringing him right up against the wide, bare, chest.  He could feel the other man’s incredible body heat through the thin fabric of his shirt, his face a mere couple of inches from a nipple that might as well have had “lick me” written on it, and…

_Okay, that’s not my imagination.  This guy is getting hard!_

He could feel an unmistakable, almost intimidating pressure against him through the worn denims. 

Ainsley looked up at the blond giant as Thor brought his arms down and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in closer. He smiled again and bent his head to give the young doctor a long, deep, passionate, heart stopping kiss, holding him tight as Ainsley’s knees threatened to buckle.

“Wow!” gasped Ainsley when their lips parted

“I have not lain with a man before” Thor’s voice was a low, warm rumble “but it would please me very much to lie with you. Would that please you also?”

“Unbelievably so!” Ainsley responded with a smile, taking the bigger man’s face in his hands and drawing him in for another kiss.

The money belt dropped to the floor as the young doctor let his hands move down the broad, warm, torso tracing the outline of the muscles. Thor moaned and arched his back, relishing the lightness of the touch, the moan becoming a deep growl of lust as Ainsley’s tongue caressed his nipple.  A bed-mate had once said his skin was as sensitive as that of a maiden and he could feel the urgent response rising in his loins.

With a smooth, effortless move he scooped the doctor up in his arms and carried him towards the bedroom.

“I have not come to orgasm for many days.  I may not last long…” the grin was full of mischief “…the first time.”

He laid Ainsley gently on the bed and began stripping him with practised hands, continuing to kiss him while the doctor tugged at the bigger man’s belt buckle.  Thor stopped him with a gentle gesture

“Not yet” he smiled “I have much to show you first”

He finished stripping Ainsley and lay on the bed beside him.  The doctor was small and slight but his body was well toned and as pleasing as the rest of him.  Thor was remembering one of his favourite bed-mates, a Vanir maiden with skin like cinnamon silk and eyes of the deepest amber, who had taught him pleasures he had never considered his body could know.  It would be his joy to share those pleasures with this new companion.

His mouth moved further down the Midgardian’s body; kisses turning to small nips and licks as Ainsley’s gasps and moans proved to Thor he had learned Osa’s lessons well.  He could feel his own shudders of pleasure as Ainsley’s fingers caressed the smooth skin of his broad chest, the tips lightly brushing his nipples, then back up to stroke his face and neck.

It felt like the most amazing dream imaginable and Ainsley was hoping he wouldn’t wake up before it got to the best part.  This might be Thor’s first time with a man but there was no doubt he was a skilled and sensitive lover.  His tongue felt rough, almost raspy like a cat’s, which only added to the sheer electric charge of what he was doing with it. 

His strong, firm hands lifted the doctor’s legs over his broad shoulders and raised his hips far off the bed and Ainsley felt a cool breath as the Thor gently blew between the line of his buttocks.  He opened his eyes and looked at the big blond with astonishment. Surely, he wasn’t about to…?  Thor saw his expression and winked.

The doctor’s back arched and he gave a great cry of ecstasy as Thor’s tongue found its target and plunged in.  The first time Osa’s tongue had sought out his secret place, he had come to orgasm almost instantly; a great jet of semen that sprayed his face and chest.  This Midgardian healer clearly had more discipline than that but the pleasure was no less obvious.  In an unashamed display of his great strength, Thor hooked his hands under the smaller man’s shoulders and lifted him clear from the bed and angling his own body back to support Ainsley with only his face and shoulders.

Ainsley grabbed on to the light fitting to steady himself from falling and began to laugh

_My God! I’m actually swinging from the chandelier!_

Thor brought up one hand to support the doctor’s back while unfastening his jeans with the other.  He knew he would come to orgasm quickly at their first mating and the thought of taking this man while still partly clothed added to his excitement.  He raised his back slightly and began to slide Ainsley slowly downwards.  He heard the doctor make an almost frightened noise when he felt what was pressing against him and looked into those misty grey eyes. 

“I am very big” he said; It was no brag, merely a statement of fact, and his voice was soft and comforting “but I will be very gentle”

Ainsley nodded and bent his head to kiss him fiercely as this enigmatic and utterly desirable man took possession of him.  He gasped and bit his lip, placing a hand on Thor’s shoulder

“Slowly” he whispered

Thor nodded and held the doctor tight around the waist as he began to move his own hips with small, careful rocking movements; gradually sliding further inside.  Suddenly, but as he expected, he felt an urgent tightening in his belly.  The effort of control it took not to thrust hard brought an even greater intensity to his orgasm and he threw his head back roaring aloud like a beast in heat.  He kept his hold on the doctor, breath coming in great gasping sighs and his heart pounding like a battle drum.  With great gentleness, he eased out of Ainsley and fell back onto the bed, drawing the smaller man down beside him.  He looked deep into the Midgardian’s eyes and suddenly felt a great affection for this man, much more than mere friendship.  He pulled him close and kissed him with the same intensity as their first embrace.

He was still panting for breath when he finally spoke

“I told you… I would not… last long…” He pushed his sweat-soaked hair back from his face “But I will be ready… again soon… If you desire it?”

Ainsley moved a strand of hair from Thor’s mouth and kissed him again.

“I don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day.”

They had been in bed for hours and now lay wrapped around each other, exhausted and happy enjoying the simple intimacy of physical closeness. Ainsley leaned over Thor and kissed his forehead, clear about his choice, if still a bit uncertain about the wisdom

“Want to stay around for a while?”

Thor, his own body still vibrating from the wonder and adventure of this new experience rested his head against the Midgardian’s shoulder

“Yes. I would like to stay, for however long you wish.”

###

Five weeks later

Ainsley took a long draw on his cigarette and exhaled deeply.  No matter how good the vaporiser, when he was upset or drunk only the real thing would do, and this afternoon he was most definitely upset.  Jess had been a real bitch this morning.  Sure, there were still a lot of things about Thor that needed explanation but according to her he was either taking sexual advantage of a man in an emotional crisis or being played by a clever manipulator.  He had ended up walking out of the café in a huff, certain she was dead wrong on both accounts.  Okay maybe the second but the first was none of her business.  He had no clinical relationship with Thor and she wasn’t exactly able to sit in judgement herself.

The apparent lack of something as basic as passport and luggage was a troubling question that wouldn’t go away.  Thor had assured him that “Everything I need to travel is in a safe place” but there was a lot he wasn’t saying and an in-depth chat was going to be needed very soon.

He’d let things go on a bit too long without addressing some of the basic issues.  Thor was in a much more stable place now; he hadn’t had one of his nightmares for at least two weeks and was comfortable enough with socialising that he didn’t need to have Ainsley’s constant company.  He should start prompting him to fill in the gaps, maybe beginning by trying to find out his real name, like one of those old fairy stories Granny Sophie used to tell.

He'd done a discreet check of missing persons and an even more discreet one of wanted lists.  No one matching Thor’s description appeared on either.  The latter was a relief, the former quite heart-breaking.  The guy was a great big adorable blond puppy; the idea that no-one cared enough to have reported him missing after a month and a half, not even the former girlfriend, was shameful.  No wonder so much of him was shut down. 

Cousin Ginnie had joked when he’d confided in her “Maybe it’s the real Thor you’ve got there, what’s his hammer like?”

There were so many odd gaps in the story it would be quite easy to believe that if it weren’t so patently ludicrous.  It had been quite a wet April though, now he thought about it

Thor had recently starting doing some cash-in-hand tree-felling for Gareth’s landscape gardening business, more for the pleasure of the work than any need for money Ainsley thought.  He was off there just now, having an afternoon of happy chainsaw wielding while Ainsley tried to work on his book. 

That had been another point of contention with Jess, she made no secret of her opinion that the Feldermann biography was simply an excuse to avoid any real work while living off the income from the Kerr Family Trust.  She could never quite disguise her jealousy of Ainsley having independent wealth to support his research.

“I think I can strike her off the Christmas Card list for the foreseeable.” He muttered to himself taking a final draw and grinding the stub into the ashtray. 

The doorbell rang, a long insistent buzzing.

“On my way!” he yelled as he walked down the hall.  Bloody Parcel Force were always late; he had been expecting this delivery yesterday and had wasted a whole day waiting around.

It wasn’t Parcel Force.  A smartly dressed man with slightly greying hair and a neat goatee was standing at the door still pressing on the bell.

“Good afternoon” The man said with a bright smile.  He was clearly American with a cheerful, snide tone in his voice “Am I addressing Dr Ainsley Edward Wyndham Kerr?”

“I’m Dr Kerr” replied Ainsley “How can I help you”

“I’m Tony Stark, of Stark Global Industries.  Eccentric, genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist at your service.” He gave a slight bow, proffering his business card “Might I come in?”

He slipped past Ainsley without waiting for a reply.  “Living room through here? I would love a cup of tea made the proper British way.”

“Excuse me, Mr Stark, but would you mind explaining what you are doing?” The day was not going how Ainsley had wanted and something was beginning to niggle at the back of his brain.

Tony Stark looked around the comfortable, messy, living room with an appraising eye.  It was fun how these British upper-class types became very polite when annoyed.

“Well, I just happened to be in the area and I fancied popping in somewhere for a cup of tea.  It’s the sort of thing that us eccentric geniuses like to do and your apartment looked like it might have a nice view of the square.  If you’re still dubious my car is parked outside.”

Ainsley did know about cars.  He looked out the window and saw several hundred thousand pounds’ worth of state-of-the-art sports car by the kerb.  He sighed and turned to face his unexpected visitor.

“Darjeeling, Oolong or Assam, Mr Stark?”

“Assam would be perfectly peachy and, please, call me Tony.”

Tony followed Ainsley through to the kitchen and waited as he made the tea, observing the young doctor with light-hearted amusement.  Ainsley’s mind was churning as it tried to avoid the glaringly obvious reason why one of the world’s richest men was in his kitchen.

He took the proffered cup and sipped it gently

“Delicious, you simply cannot get a decent cup of tea anywhere outside of the British Isles”

Ainsley stared at him, the puzzle finally completing itself.

“Tony Stark? Iron Man? As in the Avengers?”

“And the penny finally drops” commented Tony with a smile as Ainsley sat heavily down at the table with a look of shock on his face.

“So he is the Thor after all?”

Tony nodded

“I’m surprised that a man of your talents hadn’t realised already.  It should be obvious, although I suppose when the obvious is also unbelievable it becomes easier to avoid. What was your rationalisation, may I ask?”

Ainsley gave a dazed nod

“I had him down as a sheltered child from a restrictive family with a history of emotional abuse, experiencing a partial psychic fugue resulting from recent personal trauma.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and gave an impressed nod

“You’re pretty much spot on there, no wonder Professor Feldermann was impressed with you!  And you were giving him a secure space in which to work through this fugue without chemical or institutional intervention? As per your rather controversial article in the International Journal of Abnormal Psychology? And would you like a drink? – you seem like you could do with one.”

Ainsley nodded again, pointing to a cupboard above the worktop. Tony took out a bottle of single malt and two glasses.  He checked the label

“Ooh, Nice!  You have good taste, as does Thor.”  He winked at the doctor and poured out two generous measures. “Ice in the freezer?”

He dropped a couple of cubes into each glass and handed one to the Doctor.  Mild shock but processing well, he thought and took a sip of the superb scotch.  Ainsley pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“Tsk, filthy habit!  May I have one?”  Tony took one out, lit it and inhaled deeply.

Ainsley found his voice at last

“Yes, that’s pretty much the scenario.” He paused “You’re familiar with my work?”

“Feldermann was a friend of my father.  Your continuation and expansion of his ideas on the gestalt management of abnormal psychological states is radical and enlightening.  I take it that when Goldilocks landed in your lap you couldn’t resist the opportunity to try your theories outside the restrictions of a clinical environment?”

“That’s about right” Ainsley took another sip of whiskey, suddenly realising exactly why this man was here.

“I thought so, and I imagine the presumably mind-blowing sex was merely an added extra?”

He raised his hands as Ainsley visibly bridled at the comment

“I am not judging; I happen to believe that an active sex life is a valuable part of any psychological healing process.  The Big Fella still out chopping trees right now?”

Ainsley sighed.

“How long have we been under observation?”

“Well I for one have been tracking him since he went walkabout.  I pinned down where he was, what, and who, he was doing about thirty minutes before certain other parties.  You’ll be happy to know I managed to persuade said other parties to stand back until I deemed it appropriate to make contact.

“The wallet?”

“Bingo, tracker in the lining!  The rest was simply Espionage 101”

The door opened and Thor’s voice filled the flat

“I am home, Babe.  We cut many trees today.  Gareth was pleased and we had beer, and bread with bacon.”

‘Babe?’ mouthed Tony, one eyebrow raised in amusement

“In the kitchen!” Called Ainsley, trying to keep his voice level.

Thor came striding in, his broad smile fading in an instant.  Tony raised his glass in salute

“Tony Stark!”  A dull, chilling ache began to spread out from the pit of his stomach

“Nice to see you too, Hammertime! Enjoying your holiday?”

“Why are you here?” Thor demanded, already knowing the answer.

Tony stood up, glass and bottle in hand.

“There are some things I need to speak to you about” he replied, almost serious for a moment before his customary flippant tone returned “But first I think you need to have a chat with your delightful British boyfriend.  I shall withdraw to the charmingly bohemian living room and give you the kitchen. Please, take as much time as you need.  I have a very free schedule this evening.”

He strolled out, whistling the first few bars of the Lumberjack song.

Thor stood motionless on the far side of the kitchen from Ainsley, feeling numb and sick.  All the happiness experienced in the last few weeks gone in an instant to be replaced with the return of the deep despair he felt after Jane sent him away.  He couldn’t meet his lover’s gaze for fear of the anger and rejection he was sure he would see there.

“You have been smoking.  You smoke when you are upset.  You are upset because I have not been honest with you.” He said, miserably. 

He had been a fool to think this moment would not come.  Even more of a fool not to have spoken the truth sooner. He waited to hear the words of banishment that must surely follow this betrayal.

Ainsley’s heart ached at the pain and distress vibrating off Thor, the shaking in his voice, every part of his posture conveying a deep, physical anguish.

_Christ! This is someone who has fought unimaginable monsters and he’s falling to pieces in front of me_

Instinctively he went over to the trembling Asgardian and put his arms around his shoulders, using physical closeness as the most primal means of conveying comfort and assurance.

“Look at me, babe. Please” he said softly.

Thor slowly lifted his head and looked into Ainsley’s soft, grey eyes.  He could feel the sting of the tears in his own.  A pit of misery gaped deep inside him but the gentleness in Ainsley’s voice and touch threw him a slender lifeline of hope. He tried to form words but only a sob came out

Ainsley swallowed deeply

“Don’t try and speak.  Let me say what I have to and nod if I’m right – can you manage that?”

Thor nodded briefly.  He was still shaking. Tony was here again and this time he would not accept a refusal. They wanted him back.  He would have to go; it was why he had cast off his birthright, to fight for this world against the evils it was ill-prepared to face.  He would have to leave this man he loved.

“Everything you said to me – that was true?”

Thor nodded again

“But there were things you couldn’t tell me, or didn’t know how to?”

There was another nod.  The body language calmer but still tense.

“You needed time to heal, to recover your sense of value, and to be valued for yourself”

The demi-god closed his eyes and swallowed. He wrapped his arms around his lover and drew him close

“You have given me friendship. And love. And a home” he choked out “I did not know how to tell you without changing that. I was a fool. I should have trusted you!”

Ainsley sighed feeling his own tears starting to come.  Resting his head against Thor’s chest and feeling the beat of his heart.

“Yeah babe, you were a fool.  But you’re the fool that came to help me when I needed it and I love you more than I know how to say”

Thor tightened his embrace, holding Ainsley as close to him as he could without risking him hurt

“I love you too.  More than anyone else in all the Worlds”

They stood wrapped together in silence, with no thought or desire other than to remain in this closeness forever

Eventually Thor spoke the words they both had to acknowledge

“Tony Stark will ask me to go to New York. To join with the Avengers.  You know I must do this, I have a duty to fulfil.”

Ainsley nodded his head against the Asgardian’s chest, not trusting his voice.  Thor’s next words surprised them both.

“Come with me”

They both stepped back a bit and looked at each other.  Thor spoke again, his voice firm and clear with resolution

“Come with me to New York.  Live with me there.  You can work on your book in New York.”

Ainsley stared at him, open mouthed in astonishment

_Why not?_

There was nothing much holding him here.  He could do his research anywhere and didn’t exactly have a thriving network of friends and colleagues in London, plus that teaching post Anne kept bugging him about should still be on offer.

Thor could feel his confidence and determination solidifying inside him

“I will not go without you.  If you do not wish to, or if they say no, I will stay here with you.  They can call on me if they need me but I will not be parted from you.”

Ainsley smiled at him, and with that smile Thor felt like the sun had risen in his heart.

“I’ll come with you, babe, anywhere you want.”

Tony looked up as they came into the living-room together and sat down on the couch opposite him.  He raised the book he had been reading to pass the time, Polidori’s ‘The Psychopathology of Genius’

“You know; this is absolutely fascinating.  I must get a copy and highlight all the sophomoric errors in it!”

He smiled at the pair of them

“So I guess you two crazy kids know why I’m here?”

“We do” replied Thor “You wish me to come to New York.”

“Yes, the Ice-Cap has got this idea that we need to bond together as a group and somehow this seems to have involved my place becoming the Avengers’ Frathouse, so if you’re going to be sticking around we’d like you on board.  Keeping the team together as it were.”

He took another sip of whiskey.  Thor glanced at Ainsley and squeezed his hand.

“We will come to New York; I will not go unless Ainsley comes with me.” His tone allowed for no possibility of argument.  Tony’s smile turned into a broad grin.  He raised his glass in a toast.

“Well done, Goldilocks.  I expected nothing else!”


	2. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Thor and Dr Ainsley Kerr prepare to arrive in New York with Tony Stark the other Avengers share their thoughts and feelings about re-connecting with their comrade-in-arms and meeting his new lover.  
> Natasha reflects on the events that brought them all together while Ainsley and Thor have concerns of their own.  
> Ainsley gets his first introduction the Avengers while Hawkeye privately deals with the aftermath of a grim mission.  
> In terms of the story timeline this takes place at the end of May 2013.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very slight homo-eroticism, slight references to violence and recreational drug use

Steve poured himself another coffee.  Stark was just off the phone, letting them know the jet would be landing in ten minutes and they would be taking the helicopter straight to the penthouse Helipad.

“Just can’t help feeling a bit odd about it, is all I’m saying.  I mean; Thor breaks up with Miss Foster, goes totally off the radar for a couple of months and now he’s on the way back here with this fa…”

He caught Natasha’s warning expression.  Fair enough, even in his day that had been an ugly word.  Mama would have scrubbed his mouth out with carbolic soap for using language like that about anyone. 

“…guy he’s sleeping with.  It just seems like an extreme change of direction.”

Natasha took the coffee jug off him and refilled her own cup

“Is it?” she asked “We don’t really know anything about him when you think about it.  He was only around for a few days and none of us were talking about personal stuff as I recall.  Tony’s the only one who saw him after the attack on London; from what he said Thor’s been through some traumatic experiences and it sounds like this Dr Kerr’s been helping him put himself back together.”

The assault on the British capital had been over too quickly for the Avengers to respond, but the scenes of panic and destruction in the city’s streets brought back bad memories of what had happened in New York and everything that led up to it

“So you think the Big Blond ‘sleeping’ with him is his way of saying thanks?” asked Clint. “Damn! Must get him to thank me properly for not putting an arrow in him back in New Mexico.”

The archer was sprawled across one of the couches munching pretzels.  Despite the humour in his voice he sounded and looked exhausted, face drawn and dark patches under his eyes.  He’d only got back from a mission down in Peru a couple of hours ago and it didn’t seem like it had gone too well.  Natasha gave an exasperated sigh.

“Clint, go grab some sleep or at least a shower and try to behave.  It’s Thor’s first time seeing us after a year, and he’s bringing his new boyfriend with him, so it’s going to be intimidating enough for them without you playing class clown”

Clint grinned broadly and threw her a pretzel

“Can’t see much intimidating Big Blond, and this guy he’s got is supposed to be some high-level head shrink so he’s gonna have all our crazy figured out in 5 minutes anyway.”

“He’s a clinical psychologist” said Bruce, looking up from his paper “It’s a very different thing, although his specialty is abnormal psychology so he’s going to have field day with you.”

The scientist kept his tone deliberately bright but he was un-nerved by the idea of having a man with Dr Ainsley Kerr’s reputation and talents living here.  At 32 he was already regarded as one of the leaders in his field, the words ‘maverick genius’ being used in more than one review, and Dr Banner had spent most of his life since the ‘accident’ avoiding people like the young psychologist.  Deep down he could feel the ‘Other Guy’ wasn’t too happy about it either.

Hawkeye laughed and sat up, stretching himself and trying not to wince at the pain in his ribs

“He’ll have a field day with all of us, I’ve watched reality shows with more normality than this place.”

Natasha laughed and handed him a coffee, while her back was to the others she quickly signed to him

**_You okay?_ **

He gave her a discreet nod.  Hawkeye had been the first of the team to move in to one of the guest suites in Tony’s Penthouse, on the billionaire’s invitation.  Like her, the archer’s life had kept him permanently on the move and the closest thing he’d had to a home base was a room in the accommodation blocks at the Hub.  That had stopped being a viable option a year ago.  Clint had gone through an extensive debriefing and clearance process after the Battle of New York but just a handful of people knew the truth of what had happened.  Of those, only she, Fury and Maria had seen that dead, ice-blue, light in his eyes and known the man leading the attack wasn’t the Clint Barton they knew.

For the rest of SHIELD, Barton was a useful liability at best, at worst a rogue element to be watched and taken out if necessary.  To the other Field Ops agents, well, the last one who’d called him a ‘backstabbing cocksucker’ in her earshot hadn’t been able to say much until they took the pins out of his jaw.  Clint never had many friends to begin with, he was largely a solo operator and liked it that way, but having the few people he at least regarded as comrades turn their backs on him had been a hard blow as he struggled to come to terms with what he’d done and the death of the man who’d been as much a surrogate father as a Supervising Officer.

He’d been in a very bad way, worse than she’d seen him for a while.  She didn’t like or trust Stark that much, but she was grateful to him for offering Clint a place to stay outside of an increasingly hostile environment.  She’d moved in shortly afterwards, more to keep an eye on Clint than anything else, and Bruce had followed suit.  The scientist had been wary of Stark’s invitation to begin with, but the temptation of the ten floors of research and development facilities above the Penthouse levels had finally overcome his concerns about living around so many people.  Usually they rarely saw him, he divided his time between research and his private rooms and he hardly ever left the tower.  Unless you made the effort, it was easy to forget he was around and that was how he liked it.  She could tell he was nervous about having new faces around, especially as one of them was a total stranger. 

Steve had been the last to join them.  He’d tried to take an apartment in Brooklyn, not far from where he’d grown up, but it hadn’t worked out for him too well.  The soldier was still having difficulty adjusting to the changes that had taken place while he was locked in the Arctic ice.  Events that for the rest of them were just history lessons had happened less than three years ago in his mind and it was clear to her that he needed familiar people around him as he went through his own process of coping.

She’d helped him find his mother’s grave in a small, overgrown, cemetery and stood at a discreet distance as the big man knelt there, crying like a lost child.  The woman must only have been in her mid 40’s the last time he saw her.

He’d been the one to suggest that they turn their informal, supposedly temporary, living arrangements into something more permanent.  She guessed he was thinking about the Howling Commandos he’d fought and bunked with during the war and looking to recreate that sense of cohesion and camaraderie. It had a certain logic, the ‘temporary’ arrangement had already lasted over 6 months and there was plenty of space.  The penthouse spread out over four floors, not including the ‘Club Suite’ where Tony threw his notoriously lavish parties, so it wasn’t as if they’d be tripping over each other and deep down she felt a little stability was what they all needed just now.

Tony had gone over to London to meet up with Thor just after the Dark Elf incursion to try and interest him in the idea but the Asgardian had shown no enthusiasm.  He was more concerned with trying to rebuild a connection to the woman he hadn’t seen for two years and grieving over the deaths of his mother and brother.  None of them would shed any tears over Loki but Tony said Thor had seemed devastated. 

The report about the big warrior disappearing completely off grid stirred up a hornet’s nest in SHIELD.  People weren’t happy with the idea of a powerful demi-god going underground and possibly rogue in the wake of recent events.  Tony, however, had remained quietly smug and convinced Fury to leave matters in his hands.  She suspected that Stark had found his own way of keeping track of Thor’s movements.

He’d called them a week ago from London to give them the good news that he’d located Thor and the Asgardian was prepared to join them in New York on the condition that his lover be allowed to come with him.  They’d all agreed, of course, assuming he was talking about Jane Foster.  Tony had definitely been smirking when he dropped the bombshell and she wished she’d had her camera handy to catch the expressions on the faces of the others; Steve looked like someone had just dumped ice water over him.

Stark had planned it well; he’d got Fury to run all the necessary clearance checks and the Director believed Dr Kerr could prove a valuable asset.  Apparently, Agent Weaver at the Science and Technology Division had been trying to headhunt him without success for the last year or so and was ‘very happy’ that he was moving to New York.  If the events that brought the doctor and Thor together hadn’t been so random she’d have been tempted to think that Fury had arranged the whole thing.

Clint took a mouthful of the coffee, grimaced, then wandered over to the kitchen to shovel some more sugar into it. 

“I can grab some sleep later. Don’t want to miss the Big Blond’s arrival and I can’t wait to see what this guy of his looks like.  Must be something real special if he’s got Blondie taking a walk on the wild side.”

“Well you won’t have long to wait” said Steve, checking his phone “That’s them on the tarmac now.  Stark says to get the drinks ready.”

Clint tried the coffee again, satisfied it now had his preferred level of tooth-rotting sweetness. He chuckled mischievously

“Hey, bet you $10 first thing this guy asks for is a cup of tea!”

###

Thor had been anxious on the flight over.  Tony’s private jet was comfortable but the big warrior felt cramped and confined, fidgeting all the way and unable to settle.  He was worried about meeting the others again, they had fought back to back and feasted together afterwards, that created an enduring bond, but he realised he knew nothing about them or how they would react to his lover.  He was taking this kind and cultured man to live with dangerous people.  Much as he wanted him by his side, the Asgardian felt uncertain about the wisdom of this act.

Ainsley sat across from him, reading.  He reached over and took his hand, the doctor looked up and smiled

“Nervous, babe?”

“I am, a little bit.” Thor admitted “These people are comrades but I do not truly know them.  I am unsure of how it will be to dwell with them, or if they will be welcoming to you.”

Ainsley put down his tablet and pressed Thor’s hand fondly

“If it doesn’t work out, Tony said he’ll find us an apartment nearby and we can stay there.  I’m sure it’ll be fine though.”

Tony handed them both a drink

“Romanoff’s the only one to worry about, get her on your side and she’ll keep the others in line” he grinned “I don’t think you’ll have a problem there, I’ve never met a woman who didn’t love having a stylish gay friend.”

Thor glanced up at him with a frown, unsure if his lover was being mocked.  Tony patted him on the shoulder

“Simmer down, Goldilocks, just telling it how it is.  He is gay after all, and you can’t dispute his style.”

He saluted the doctor with his own glass and sat down to text Pepper and make dinner arrangements for the evening.  He’d initially been amused and dismissive when he discovered that Thor had taken up with another man, thinking it was a novelty that would soon wear off, but observing them from a distance and being in and out of their company for the past week he’d witnessed the deep affection between them; Ainsley’s gentleness and patience with Thor’s damaged psyche and perpetual curiosity and the Asgardian’s fierce protectiveness of his lover.  Anyone who had a problem with Dr Kerr being around would be facing a big angry blond problem of their own.

Ainsley leaned over and kissed Thor

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

The doctor sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, keeping hold of Thor’s hand.  He had his own uncertainties about the situation.  Like the rest of the world he’d watched in shock and terror as news feeds streamed live footage of alien soldiers attacking New York and science fiction became stomach-churning reality.  Of course, he’d seen and heard all about the group of extraordinary people who’d turned the tide; his article on ‘the psychology and archetypal image of the new superhero’ had been very well received.  He’d just never imagined he would find himself in the position of meeting any of them, let alone living with them.

It had been after that article came out that Anne Weaver had contacted him about a job.  They’d met at a conference in Philadelphia some months before the attack and had got on well, exchanging a friendly email or two now and again.  She’d been keen for him to consider taking a post at the teaching institute she directed, offering a very competitive salary and a whole gift-basket of side benefits.  He’d been tempted, but he didn’t need the money and hadn’t been keen on relocating at that time.  He’d still been with Lance and hoping that was going to work out. 

Finding out that Anne was a senior SHIELD agent and the ‘institute for gifted students” was part of the SHIELD training academy had made him briefly suspicious, but only briefly.  The idea that Thor might be part of some plan to recruit him was ludicrously egotistical and his lover didn’t have the capacity or the inclination for subterfuge of any sort. 

He smiled quietly to himself.  Even if that were the case, 6’4” of devoted, chiselled, muscle was a better incentive than any relocation package.

###

“My friends! It is good to see you again” Thor bounded down the steps, enfolding Steve in a massive hug.  They’d half excepted him to be in full battle armour but he looked no less impressive in jeans and T Shirt, Mjolnir slung from a loop on his sturdy belt.  His hair was longer but otherwise he looked no different from when he fought alongside them.  Natasha was more interested in the man standing nervously at the door leading in from the terrace; briefly forgotten as the male Avengers re-acquainted themselves with much back-slapping and bicep-squeezing.

She’d expected the psychologist to be the hearty, beer-swigging, rugby-player type of academic but Dr Kerr wasn’t much taller than her; 5’7” at the most, slim but fit.  He was dressed casually in jeans and an open-necked shirt, his jacket slung across his arm and a leather satchel over his shoulder.  His short curly hair was sandy brown and his eyes a misty grey.  He looked handsome, intelligent and a bit shy.  Natasha walked over to him smiling, her hand extended

“You must be Ainsley, I’m Natasha.  It’s lovely to meet you.” She kissed him on both cheeks and turned to the laughing group of men “Thor, isn’t there someone rather important you’re forgetting?”

The Asgardian’s face fell and he came running back

“Ainsley, I am sorry. Forgive my rudeness!”

The doctor laughed and patted his face

“You’re forgiven, babe, it’s a big day for you!”

Thor put his arm around Ainsley and led him down to the others, smiling proudly but still feeling the flutter of nerves in his stomach.

“My friends, this is Ainsley, please make him very welcome here.”

The tall, broad shouldered dark-blonde man called Steve Rogers was clearly ‘Captain America’.  A bit of a corny name, Ainsley thought, but then it did date from the ‘40s as did the man himself.  He hoped that Steve had shed some of the less appealing qualities of that period. 

Hawkeye, or Clint Barton, was shorter than Steve and Thor, just under 6’ and in his early to mid 30’s, dusty brown hair, blue-grey eyes and an endearingly crooked grin, as if his jaw had been broken sometime in the past and never set properly.  Lean, but with the broad shoulders and strong arms of an archer.  He looked as if he hadn’t slept for a couple of days but his soft mid-western accent was warm and friendly as he introduced himself. 

Maybe a little bit too friendly, he held on to the doctor’s hand for a fraction of a second after the handshake finished and the look he gave him was subtly appraising.  Ainsley noted the glance that Natasha gave to Clint, he was already beginning to get a hint of some of the dynamics around what was going to be his new home.

Dr Banner, Bruce, was the last to introduce himself.  He was in his early 40’s, stocky with unruly black hair and an overall air of nervous anxiety. The handshake was brief and he seemed unwilling to hold eye contact, perhaps afraid the psychologist would get a glimpse of what was inside.  Tony had warned him not to get offended if the scientist didn’t hang around too long.  Ainsley understood perfectly well, not everyone’s inner demons were as physical as Dr Banner’s.

And that was all of them, well, perhaps not all.  Tony spoke into the air

“Jarvis, would you please say hello to Dr Kerr?”

A smooth, British sounding voice came out of nowhere

“Good morning, Dr Kerr.  I hope you are well?”

Tony nodded to Ainsley with a ‘go on’ expression.

“Uh, I’m very well Jarvis, thank you for asking.”

“Excellent” beamed Tony, like a proud father “Jarvis, could you please allocate Dr Kerr full Resident’s access and clearance please?”

“Of course, Sir” replied the voice “Dr Kerr, if you require any assistance while here please ask and I will do my best to oblige.”

Ainsley looked at Tony in astonishment.  The billionaire smiled, that was everyone’s first reaction to Jarvis

“It’s a natural language user interface.  Not exactly AI but the closest we’re likely to get for now. Just a rather very intelligent system.  You’ll have access to the whole penthouse except for my study and the private rooms.  Jarvis or one of the others will be able to acquaint you with the layout of the place.”

he unbuttoned his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair.

“Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to put my feet up for a bit.  Pepper’s booked us all a table at Pellegrini’s for 8.  Play nice, kids!”

“Hey Doc” Clint called across from the kitchen “Can I get you anything?”

Ainsley smiled, that was very kind of the man.

“Thank you, I would love a cup of tea…”

“Hah!” exclaimed Hawkeye victoriously as the others dug for their wallets “I like you already, Doc!”

Natasha had shown them down to their ‘room’.  It was really a substantial suite; the floor below the main level of the Penthouse was mostly with apartments for the use of guests and visiting VIPs and the Avengers had chosen whichever took their fancy.  Tony had allocated one of the larger ones to Thor and Ainsley, set against the curve of the tower so one wall of the sitting room was floor to ceiling windows with a panoramic view of Manhattan.  An archway let through to a bedroom with what Ainsley could only think of as an Emperor-size bed.  The bathroom was opulent and a small kitchen area opened off the sitting room; sufficient for tea, coffee and snacks.

“They’re more or less self-contained” Natasha explained “But apart from Bruce we all use the living area upstairs most of the time.  I hope you’ll feel comfortable doing that as well.  I’ve made sure the kitchen’s fully stocked and tomorrow I’ll show you where the best local shops are.”

She’d left them to themselves after that.  Ainsley was amused, everything Tony said had made her seem terrifying but she’d been friendly and charming the whole time.

The décor was blandly tasteful, like expensive hotel suites across the world.  Most of Ainsley’s things were staying in London for the time being, his flat was part of the Kerr estate so maintaining it wouldn’t be a problem.  His books and a few other personal things would be arriving in the next couple of days so they’d be able to make it a bit homelier. 

Thor had taken off his boots and shirt and thrown himself back on the bed, it was firm and comfortable with plenty of room for him to spread out without making Ainsley cross for taking up too much space.  He patted the bed beside him

“Come and snuggie with me for a while, then you can sleep a little and we can look around”

The warrior’s initial mispronunciation of ‘snuggle’ had become his personal joke. It had a warm, funny, sound and always made Ainsley smile like he was doing now.  The doctor unbuttoned his shirt and lay down beside him, nestling into the crook of his arm.  He enjoyed the way his lover smelled, like ozone on a warm summer’s day by the beach.  He ran his hand through Thor’s hair and kissed his neck, letting his tongue linger, savouring the slight salt taste of the Asgardian’s skin and the way he shivered with pleasure at the sensation.

“I will want to do more than snuggie if you keep doing that.” He whispered, hoping that Ainsley would.  The doctor smiled and kissed his neck again, letting his fingers travel lightly down the ridged muscle of Thor’s stomach to slide under the waistband of his jeans.  Thor grinned, the first day in their new home looked like it would be off to a very good start.

###

Clint turned the temperature on the shower up as high as possible without scalding himself and leaned back against the tiles to let the painfully hot water course over his chest and sides. 

A group of Peruvian rebels had taken two SHIELD agents hostage and he’d been called in to give extra support to the extraction team.  It had been bad from start to finish.  One of the rebels he’d taken out wasn’t much more than a kid, maybe 15 or 16, but the gun in his hands hadn’t been a toy.  The other guy he’d downed only seconds after could’ve been the boy’s father from the way he was screaming. 

Eight hours there and eight back in a Quinjet with no-one looking at him or saying anything more than the necessary instructions.  A year ago, he’d have welcomed that silence, a chance to get himself centred and ready for the mission beforehand and depressurise afterwards.  Now that silence shouted so loud he could get the message even without his hearing aids.  Fury must be lacking specialists to put him in that situation, or maybe one of the other high-ups wanted to send him a reminder.

He ran his hands over his torso, checking again to convince himself nothing was broken.  His sides and back were covered in purplish black bruises.  He’d found a bar in Lima, far enough from the usual haunts to be sure of getting quietly drunk.  There’d been this gorgeous Australian girl, a backpacker from Sydney, who’d taken a liking to his wonky grin and hyena laugh and invited him back to her hostel to smoke a little weed and maybe have a bit of ‘international co-operation’. 

The four guys in black combats and ski masks had jumped him as they left.  While the girl ran screaming for the cops they’d laid into him with boots and fists as he tried to fight them off, too much tequila taking away his edge and besides the guys had experience; knowing the spots to hit that caused the most pain but least long-term damage. SHIELD training does that for you.

He’d ended up curled in a ball, protecting his head and soft parts like he used to when dad got carried away with the strap.  They’d fled before the cops showed and he’d made himself scarce as well, too many awkward questions and his Spanish wasn’t up to it, not sure if he was pissed off from the beating or that it had blown his first chance of getting laid in weeks. 

He turned to let the water run down his back and shoulders.  He’d prefer to have used the steam room in the gym but didn’t want anyone to see this, especially not Tasha.  He couldn’t deal with that conversation again, not right now and especially not when this should be Big Blond’s day.  Pellegrini’s was a smart place but his only dressy shirt was white and so sheer the bruises would be visible. He’d give this another ten minutes then take some codeine and go see if Tony could lend him a dark shirt for tonight. 

 


	3. Close Encounters of the Hawk Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline – 1st Week of June 2013  
> Ainsley is in no mood for games after a difficult introduction to the world of SHIELD bureaucracy, and a bored assassin can be an annoyance.  
> A chance for Ainsley and Clint to start getting to know each other leads to an embarrassing moment, a violent encounter and Clint uncovering a piece of the young psychologist’s past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some graphic violence

Ainsley brushed the back of his head.  It felt like a bug had landed there, even Tony Stark’s Manhattan penthouse wasn’t immune to the odd incursion from the insect world.  There it was again, something landing in his hair.  He caught it between his fingers and examined it. A pistachio shell?

“Hey; wassup Doc?” came a voice from aloft

The doctor turned on the couch and looked up.  Hawkeye was perched on the balustrade of the gallery, barefoot, eating pistachio nuts and grinning down at him.

“Clint, what are you doing up there?”

Ainsley had thought he had the place to himself.  Natasha was in Washington; Steve had taken Thor up to visit the Field Ops training centre for a couple of days and Tony had gone to San Diego for the opening of a new Stark Foundation project.  Bruce would be buried away in one of the research labs and he’d not seen Clint since he got back so had assumed the archer was out on some errand or another. 

Clint was still grinning, bits of half-chewed pistachio stuck in his teeth

“Having a no-floor day.”

Ainsley closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.  He’d been here a week and still getting used to the idea of shared accommodation, even when it was as spacious and luxurious as Stark’s penthouse.  The others were fine but with Clint it was like having a hyperactive teenager around.  The psychologist had already come to a tentative diagnosis of a traumatised, possibly abusive, childhood and young adolescence with resulting emotional immaturity and a tendency to regress to juvenile behaviours.

“And what, may I ask, is a no-floor day?”

“I’ll show you. Catch!”

He threw the bag of nuts down to the doctor then braced his hands on the balustrade and hoisted himself up until he was standing on the polished wood.  Ainsley held his breath as Clint spread his arms to balance himself then nimbly trotted along till he was almost at the point where the gallery ended at the dressed stone chimney-breast.  He dropped down onto the bar then vaulted lightly over to the table at the end of the long couch where Ainsley was seated. 

The effect was spoiled when the table wobbled and he fell forward onto the couch with a loud ‘ooof!”.  He pulled himself upright and sat cross-legged with his feet tucked under him.

 “And that’s a no-floor day, getting around the place without putting my feet anywhere that counts as floor” He took his bag of pistachios back from the dumbfounded doctor “Walking on hands is permitted but kinda feels like cheating.  This place is great for it.”

Ainsley had to agree. The living area of the Penthouse comprised one large open-plan space with multiple areas and levels, including a wide gallery that held Tony’s private study, a well-stocked library and a music room.  A large sunken lounge space with deep comfortable couches was flanked by a well-stocked bar and open-plan kitchen while one of the biggest plasma screens the doctor had ever seen was mounted above the fireplace.  The area beneath the gallery sheltered a formal dining room and a smaller, more intimate lounge they’d designated as a quiet room.  The whole south wall was re-enforced glass panels from floor to ceiling, with doors opening onto a broad terrace complete with hot tub and pool.  Plenty of places for a bored Hawk to perch.

He laughed and shook his head

“Clint, you’re a very strange man and round here that’s something of an achievement!”

Clint shuffled along the couch until he was sitting beside him and tried to peer at his tablet

“Whatcha doing?”

Ainsley sighed and put the device into sleep mode

“I’m sorry but I’ve had a very difficult day” He was trying not to sound too sharp but he’d no desire to be the archer’s entertainment for the evening “I really just need a bit of peace and quiet right now.  If you want to keep playing your game, I’ll go down to the apartment.”

He stood up but Clint reached out and caught his arm.  His expression was surprised and apologetic

“Hey Doc, I’m sorry.  Didn’t mean to upset you” He pulled the doctor back towards the couch “Sit down and tell me what’s up.”

Ainsley sat back down; torn between the desire to vent and the need to escape. Unfortunately, now it would be difficult to do the latter without being deliberately rude to Clint. He sighed again

“I just got my fur rubbed the wrong way at the Hub and it’s been pissing me off all day” He looked at the archer and smiled “If you can fix me a cup of tea without touching the floor I’ll tell you.”

Clint’s expression became thoughtful

“Okay, but you might want to come over to the kitchen otherwise I can’t guarantee no spillage.”

The whole experience had been purgatory from start to finish.  He’d assumed the trip to the Hub to finalise his clearance as a civilian Consultant would be a mere formality given Director Fury’s approval.  The classified location of the SHIELD operations base required an initial journey to the New York Field Office and from there to a military airbase to get on a transport jet.  It had been aggressively unpleasant.  The Agent who escorted him was sullen and uncommunicative, the jet smelled of oil and stale sweat and the other passengers, clearly all SHIELD agents going by their identikit suits and haircuts, had been as monosyllabic as Agent Warrilow.

At the Hub, he had been escorted straight to the office of an Agent Hand, one of the senior Agents, without so much as a cup of coffee.  Agent Hand made it quite plain this was no formality and his clearance depended on him answering to her satisfaction.  Fury’s opinion did not matter to her and she was not inclined to view the doctor as more than a potentially unreliable dilettante. Her vehemence implied to Ainsley that she did not have as much influence in the matter as she pretended.

This was followed up by a series of probing questions most of which were about the Avengers rather than him.  Hawkeye seemed to be of singular interest, and her questions an attempt to obtain a psychological evaluation by an underhand route.  Eventually he lost his patience, something he rarely did, and called her out on the appropriateness of her line of questioning; indicating he would be submitting an invoice for his standard consultancy fee if it continued. 

This firmly concluded the meeting.  Closing her file, she sent him out to be issued with a biometric identity card for Class 5 Consultant Clearance and instructions to return to New York on the next available stale-smelling transport.  The whole business was a transparent and insulting waste of time to get something he could have picked up at the Field Office.

“If this is what being associated with SHIELD in any capacity is like I’m not sure it’s something I want to do.”

“Vicki Hand’s a bitch” Clint said aggressively “A good agent but a bitch.  She’ll make things awkward enough just to show that Fury doesn’t call all the shots, without actually being obstructive.”

Ainsley drank some of the tea.  For an American, Clint made a surprisingly good cuppa.  It helped that he boiled the water properly rather than just sticking the mug in a microwave.  He felt better for having released some bile and more inclined to make conversation.

“She asked a lot of questions about you, like she was trying to get a profile.  That really was the last straw.”

Clint’s whole posture tightened and his eyes narrowed

“What was she asking?” there was an edge to his voice the doctor had never heard before.

“Mostly whether you spoke much about what happened before the Chitauri invasion, particularly if you ever mentioned ‘The Assault’ or spoke about an Agent Coulson.”  He looked at Clint questioningly “I’ve heard Thor mention that name a couple of times but without any context.  Did something happen to him during the invasion?”

Clint slid of the worktop and walked over to the couches.  The fun had gone out of no-floor day. He sat down with his elbows on his knees, rested his head in his hands and sighed heavily.

“Could you get me a drink please, Doc?”

“Sure” replied Ainsley “Beer or something stronger?”

“Beer will be fine thanks.  You fancy ordering pizza and sticking it on Stark’s tab?”

As they ate, Clint told Ainsley the story of what had happened before the Battle of New York or at least the version of events he’d been told afterwards.  He hadn’t learned of Phil’s death until he’d asked about him at the Shawarma Palace.  The question had been met with an uncomfortable silence finally broken by Tasha, who’d informed him that Agent Coulson had died on the Helicarrier. Even if he hadn’t done it with his own hands, his actions had caused the death of his mentor and oldest friend. 

“Could I really have done all that stuff without knowing about it, Doc?” he could hear the plea for reassurance in Clint’s voice “I mean you can’t just switch off someone’s mind like that, can you?”

Ainsley finished his beer and got up to fetch them some more.

“If you’d asked me that just over a year ago, I would have said no.  That kind of deliberate reconditioning, if it were possible, would take years; months at the very least if extreme methods were used.  Even then the psyche would be constantly rebelling against the artificial intrusion.  The idea that you could take a man’s mind and turn it 180 degrees with a single touch belonged to the realm of fantasy and science fiction.”

He handed Clint his beer and sat down beside him

“Then the skies tore open, raining down aliens and beings out of ancient legend, and we entered a new Age of Magic and Monsters.  All the rules we thought were fixed in place have gone out of the window.”

On an impulse, he carded his fingers through the archer’s thatch of untidy brown hair.  Clint instinctively moved his head into the touch like a cat being stroked.

“Poor Clint; you were the first casualty in a war we haven’t even begun to understand yet. In World War One they shot men with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as cowards, what they’re doing to you now is no less barbaric.”

Clint clenched his eyes shut to hold back the tears and took a long drink of the beer.  It was painful that this guy he hardly knew could get it better than men he’d served alongside for years. 

“What’s so fucked up is that’s the kindest thing anyone’s said to me in months” his voice was quiet and low, his fingers picking nervously at the label on the bottle “Phil was like the dad I wanted to have and the first real friend I ever did have.  Losing him hurts worse than anyone can imagine, I’m not even sure if Tasha really knows how bad it feels”

Ainsley reached out and took his hand

“I know what it’s like when you lose someone so close.  Something inside gets torn away and nothing can ever fully heal the wound.”

Clint nodded silently, still trying to hold back the tears, and squeezed the doctor’s hand.  Ainsley put his arms around him and drew the archer into a close hug.  The bigger man couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a heaving sob, his shoulders shaking as he held on to the young Englishman for comfort.

Eventually the shaking and sobbing faded and he straightened himself up, wiping his face with his hand.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Doc and I’m sorry for laying it all on you like this.” He tried to smile “I’m not always this crazy, it’s just been a really shitty few days for me.”

Ainsley handed him some tissues

“If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds like it’s been going on more than just a few days.  If you ever need to talk…”

Clint gave his nose a great honking blow.  He turned to Ainsley, the crooked grin back on his face.

“Depends. What clearance they give you?”

The doctor took out his shiny new ID card and showed him. Clint let out a long whistle of surprise.

“Hell, Doc! No wonder The Hand That Bites was being such a bitch. Fury must have big expectations if he’s chucking you in at that level.”

Ainsley raised an eyebrow and his voice dripped with sarcasm

“Well that’s not in the least bit intimidating, I must say.”

Clint laughed and patted his back, again the touch lingered for a fraction longer than normal

“You’ll do okay, Doc.  Calling out Vicki Hand on first meeting shows more brass ones than most guys I know.  Let me put my boots on and we’ll go for a proper drink.  I know a really great little bar.”

###

_Well, if this is Clint’s idea of a great bar I’d hate to see some of the other places he drinks_

The sound of country music ground out over the hum of conversation in the low, badly lit bar room.  The choice of drinks was beer, spirits, or beer and spirits.  Ainsley had rightly guessed that a bottle fermented Brooklyn No 2 was not going to be on offer.  A group of Hells Angels wannabes hogged the solitary pool table and the smell was ‘interesting’.  The doctor had settled for Budweiser as the least potentially toxic option. 

They talked a great deal about nothing much; Ainsley about music, movies and vintage cars, Clint about comic books and free-running, the one thing he seemed more obsessed about than archery. 

Clint noticed that any questions he asked about the doctor’s family were skilfully deflected.  Ainsley was as unwilling as him to talk about that part of his life.  That puzzled him, he had good reasons for not wanting to speak about his experiences growing up but nothing about the Englishman suggested he had that kind of trauma in his past.  What little had slipped out seemed to imply a happy, cared-for childhood cushioned by lots of very old money.

As the night dragged towards closing time Clint was talking less and less, realising he was happy just to listen to Ainsley rattling on about his enthusiasms.  His grey eyes sparkled behind the lenses of his glasses as he spoke about the bottle green MG Midget sports car he was having shipped over and he had the funny little habit of tugging his earlobe when he laughed.

Ainsley was halfway through talking about the reconditioned leather upholstery when he felt Clint’s hand on his thigh, a gentle but insistent pressure.  He looked up from his drink and saw the hungry, pleading expectancy in the other man’s eyes.  Clint swallowed hard and moved his hand marginally further up.

_Shit_

This was his own fault.  Hawkeye’s interest in him had been subtle but still evident, it should have been plain to him the man was in a place where he would overinvest in any gesture of affection.  This would have to be dealt with carefully.  He put his hand over Clint’s and gently, but equally insistently, removed it.

“I think we should go home and talk” he said quietly

Clint nodded, his jaw tightening.

It was only a few blocks to Stark Tower so they decided to walk.  Clint had tried to say something as soon as they were out of the bar but Ainsley had indicated he’d rather wait till they were home.  The doctor had stopped off at an all-night store to get a packet of cigarettes.  Clint hadn’t seen him smoke before and took this as a bad sign.  Ainsley continued on in silence, smoking and deep in thought, while Clint walked beside him; shoulders slumped and face grim

_Stupid fucking Dumbass Barton_

He couldn’t go five minutes without screwing something up one way or another.  The guy was just being nice and caring because that’s the kind of man he was; why pull a dumb stunt like that? Even if he wasn’t Thor’s lover he’d not given any sign of being interested that way.  Had he reckoned that just because Ainsley was gay he’d jump on the nearest available dick? Wouldn’t blame Doc for thinking that or moving out with Thor first chance they got.  Maybe he should step up to the plate and ask Tony if there was a free apartment elsewhere he could move into.  That would be less hassle, if Thor or Tasha didn’t beat him into hamburger first.  He reckoned he’d stand a better chance up against the Big Blond.

They’d only gone a couple of blocks from the bar when they heard the shout behind them

“HEY!!! FAGGOTS!!!!”

Clint let out a long breath to release the tension in his stomach and glanced behind them.  Two of the wannabe bikers, big dudes but clumsy looking.  Gym and steroid muscle, the type who relied on size and attitude rather than skill.  He put a protective, and provocative, arm around Ainsley and whispered to him

“Keep walking. When I push you, run!”

Ainsley nodded, his face felt cold and there was a sharp knot of fear in his stomach but Clint’s face was set and serious with a hard, cold, look in his eyes the psychologist hadn’t seen before

The shout was closer

“Hey!!! Faggots!!! We’re talking to you!!”

Clint’s free hand slipped into the pocket of his cargo pants.  There was a little surprise he always kept in there.

A beefy hand landed on his shoulder and a voice acid with stale beer snarled at him

“Hey Faggot! You deaf?”

_WRONG thing to say, Beerbreath!_

The backhand strike smashed Beerbreath’s nose and fractured his cheekbones, sending him stumbling back with blood spurting between his fingers.  Clint pushed Ainsley forward out of harm’s way as the other big dude aimed a haymaker at the side of his head. Hawkeye used the momentum of the push to bring his elbow back sharply into Haymaker’s throat.  The blow wasn’t hard enough to crush the windpipe completely but as Haymaker went down, goggle eyed and choking for breath, it was clear he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. 

Beerbreath tried to come at him but Hawkeye took his legs out from underneath him and had him pinned, one knee grinding into his armpit.  Beerbreath saw the flash of steel and felt the point pressing at the corner of his eye.  He tried to screw his eyes shut, feeling the blade cut his eyelid as he did so, and a dark patch spread across the crotch of his denims.

“Clint!” Ainsley hissed urgently.  The archer scanned his surroundings.  The sudden violent altercation was attracting rubberneckers, too many witnesses and the cops might be on their way.  He spun the balisong knife shut with an expert flick of his wrist.

“This deaf faggot’s letting you keep your eyes today” he snarled and twisted his knee hard.  Beerbreath howled as his shoulder was forced out of its socket. 

Clint grabbed Ainsley’s arm and steered him out of there

“Let’s go!” was all he said.

The doctor was hard pressed to keep up with the assassin’s stride as they made their way quickly the last couple of blocks to Stark Tower.  Clint was breathing heavily through his nose, jaw clenched, eyes still fixed and cold.  His body tightened even further as they entered the express private elevator to the penthouse.  He hated travelling in them, too vulnerable and easy to get trapped, but going up 80 stories without one was a challenge even for him.  Ainsley concentrated on the flickering numbers of the LED display as they soared upwards

_Okay. I’m in a lift with an angry, psychologically damaged, assassin who made a very clumsy pass at me half an hour ago, and the only other person around upstairs tends to damage cities when he gets stressed out.  What part of this is a good idea?_

As soon as they disembarked in the living area the doctor headed over to the bar and poured them both a generous measure of whiskey.

“Remind me never to try and sneak up on you in the kitchen to give you a surprise”

Clint stared at him for a moment then laughed and took the glass that Ainsley offered

“Hell Doc! That’s pretty much true for all of us round here.” His face became serious again “I’m a killer.  It’s what I’m trained to do and I’m one of the best there is.  Folks like you shouldn’t have to know guys like me exist.”

Ainsley sat down on the couch and put his feet up, casually brushing away a few of the pistachio shells from earlier.

“My last lover was S.A.S., you’re not the first killer I’ve met.  Just because I’ve had a comfortable life, don’t assume it’s been a sheltered one.” 

He sipped his whiskey, staring off into the middle distance.

“I know the world can be a terrible place.”

Clint scratched at the back of his head and sighed

“Look, Doc, what I done earlier…”

Ainsley looked up at him

“We can either agree to forget about it or we can sit down and talk it through, which would you prefer? It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Clint sat down beside him, holding his drink in both hands

“I don’t often go for guys.  When I do it’s either ‘cause I’m mega-horny or…” he turned to look at Ainsley, the coldness in his eyes had given way to a deep sadness “…or cause there’s something really special about them.”

He swallowed half the whiskey in a single mouthful. 

“I wasn’t horny tonight, Doc.  Just maybe wanted to be with someone to understands a bit about what’s happened to me” he grinned ruefully “Hoped maybe you and Thor were ‘open’”

Ainsley put his arm around Clint’s shoulder’s and drew him closer, trying not to think too much about what the other man had said in case he started crying

“Clint, Thor and I haven’t been together long enough to even think about that yet.  Even if we had, the suggestion would have to come from him and I’d need to know you a lot better before considering it.”

He leaned over and kissed the archer lightly on the forehead

“Underneath all that crazy there’s a funny, brave, good-hearted man I really want to be friends with. Can we just stick with that for a while?”

Clint leaned his head against Ainsley’s shoulder.  That option actually sounded a lot better than what he’d had in mind earlier.

“Hugs are still okay, right?”

The young doctor laughed

“Hugs are fine, but no naughty touching or I’ll tell Tony about your Team Jacob boxer shorts!”

“Twilight’s cool” grumbled Clint into his glass as he finished off his drink.

They sat and talked for a little longer before heading off to their separate apartments.  Clint decided to let his curiosity get the better of him.  Switching on his laptop he Googled

‘Dr Ainsley Kerr’

All that brought up were lists of publications, articles and coldly academic data.

_Damn, he’s smart! No wonder Fury wanted him Clearance Level 5_

He’d never heard of a civilian consultant getting that level of clearance before. He and Tasha were Level 6.  That suggested Fury had something big in mind for the psychologist.

No Facebook, Twitter or Instagram; Doc’s only on-line presence a discreet professional website with qualifications, credentials, links to articles and an email address. No personal information anywhere.

He tried something else.  A lot of these upper-class Brits had double-barrelled surnames, what if he just didn’t use his full name

‘Wyndham-Kerr, family’

That was better, it brought up a whole list of British newspaper archives.  He clicked on the first link

**Seven Die in Country House Blaze**

**Leading Scientist and family killed in Boxing Day tragedy**

‘The scientific and artistic communities are in mourning today after fire swept through historic Wyndham House in Kent in the early hours of December 26th, claiming the lives of eminent physicist Sir Francis Findlay Wyndham-Kerr and his wife Lady Elizabeth, better known as the sculptor Elizabeth Cross; together with their son Edward, daughter in law Magdalena and their eldest grandson Philip. Also killed were Mrs Wyndham-Kerr’s parents, the composer Mannfried von Kesselbaum and his wife Sophia.  Their surviving grandchildren, Ainsley and Isobel, are being cared for by relatives…

A full investigation is to be held but preliminary reports suggest the fire was caused by faulty or corroded electrical wiring in the upper floors of the 17th century building…’

_Awww Doc… Awww Doc, no…._


	4. The Game Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline. Beginning of 2nd week of June 2013
> 
> In which Clint has a cunning plan but is a bit of a douche and Ainsley finds out what SHIELD wants from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild Homo-eroticism

Like everything in Tony Stark’s penthouse, the gym was state of the art, although merely calling it a gym was an understatement.  The fully equipped spa complex occupied half of the level below the apartments, including weights room, sparring arena, exercise machines and a steam room from which you could dive directly into a heated swimming pool.  Efficient, stylish and over-the-top extravagant like the man it was designed for. 

Even when the battle frenzy wasn’t upon him, Thor’s strength and endurance were greater than that of any other man of Midgard.  The heaviest of the weights barely exercised his muscles but he enjoyed the pool.  He had risen early this morning to accompany Ainsley to the airport and had been swimming lengths since, his body cutting through the water swift and sure.  He had swum for several hours and was lying back in the steam room, eyes closed and letting the heat soak into him as he tried to release his anger and frustration.

Ainsley had been treated with great disrespect when he went to the Hub.  The woman agent Victoria Hand had behaved to his lover, a man of profound learning, generous spirit and noble lineage, with a manner that Thor would be ashamed to use towards a menial.  It was an insult to them both and Thor was unhappy about him travelling to the SHIELD Academy so soon after, even though Ainsley assured him that Anne Weaver was not like this Agent Hand.  True, Director Fury had invited Ainsley to visit the Triskelion as his personal guest, to show his regard for the doctor, but the Asgardian would have preferred a simple apology from the offending agent.

He heard Clint’s tentative greeting as the archer entered the steam room and raised his hand in acknowledgement.

Clint sat himself down on the opposite bench.  It had a good long run this morning and the steam room was a great place to relax in afterwards.  His calf was hurting a bit, though, he hadn’t stretched properly and the muscle kept spasming.  He was a bit un-nerved to find Thor there. The Big Blond had been sullen and broody since getting back from Field Ops.  Hopefully he was just pissed at the way Vicki Hand had treated Doc but there was always the chance he’d found out about him making that dumb pass, although Clint reckoned he’d know about it by now if that was the case. 

He didn’t seem too chatty at the moment so Clint settled back to relax against the steam-warmed marble and enjoy the view.  Thor’s interpretation of the ‘Pants on in the Penthouse’ rule was pretty liberal when it came to the pool and the steam room.  If Natasha wasn’t around he saw no reason to bother with trunks, considering them a foolish and uncomfortable encumbrance.  Clint was in agreement with him on that, although he still wanted to see what the Big Blond looked like in a pair of black speedos.

He let his eye travel along the drowsing Asgardian’s form, the muscles were powerful and functional rather than the useless bulk of a bodybuilder; skin surprisingly pale and clear like that of an adolescent, except for the tan of his face and arms.  Almost hairless apart from the blond bush between his legs and the wisps under his arms, now spitlocked with moisture. 

There was a growing bulge under Clint’s towel as he watched a bead of sweat roll down Thor’s massive bicep, then he flinched as he realised Thor was awake and watching him with amusement through half open eyes.

He hurriedly folded his hands in his lap, wanting to avoid a repeat of the mistake he’d made with Ainsley.

“Did you have an enjoyable run this morning?” Thor asked, sitting up and swinging his feet down to the tiled floor, sweeping his hair back with both hands to lie in a single damp rope down the nape of his neck.

“Pretty good, BB! Trying out a new route through the park and found a coupla new challenges.  You should come with me and give it a go.”

Thor laughed

“Would I not be too big to be any good at this Free Running?”

Clint shook his head

“Nah, you’re fast and agile.  I reckon you’d be damn good, damn quick and it’d be a different kinda workout for you.”

He had an idea, a surprisingly good one.

“Look, Steve’s interested in trying it and I know ‘Tash’s up for it.  What say the four of us go out some morning and put in a few hours?”

Thor grinned, that sounded like a very good idea.  They could be Lady Natasha and the Warriors Three.

“As long as you have had your coffee first, it is a deal.” He said, shaking Clint’s hand

There was a growing list of, mainly light hearted, Penthouse rules appearing on the refrigerator door. Number One being

‘Except in case of imminent world-ending event, do NOT attempt any form of communication with Barton until he’s had his first coffee of the day.’

“Yeah” laughed Clint “That’s kinda taken as read.”

He gave a sharp intake of breath as his calf spasmed again and reached down to rub it with both hands.

“What is the matter?” enquired Thor with an expression of concern “are you injured?”

“Nah” said Clint, still rubbing the twitching muscle “Just didn’t stretch properly this morning, too much of a hurry to get going.”

Thor patted his knee

“Put your foot up here.  I know something that will help.”

Clint rested his heel on Thor’s knee.  The Asgardian cracked his knuckles and began to feel around the muscle looking for knots and tension before going to work with strong supple fingers.  The archer groaned aloud

“Hell, BB! That feels incredible!  Whered’ya learn to do that?”

Thor smiled as he continued the massage, easing and stretching the tendons from knee to ankle

“A warrior of Asgard must have many skills; the care of sore or strained muscles is one of them.  I may not be a man of learning but I am not stupid, despite what some like to suggest.”

“The hell you ain’t” gasped Clint “Next time Tony treats you like a jerk he’s getting a bag of itching powder in his underwear drawer.”

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as Thor carefully focussed on the larger muscle groups, increasing the pressure slightly to undo the remaining knots.  They opened again as he felt fingertips lightly brush the underside of his balls. Thor was leaning forward, grinning at him, his own arousal obvious as he caressed the archer between his thighs

_Okay Karma, way to turn the tables! I’m gonna kick myself later but…_

He took hold of Thor’s wrist and carefully moved his hand away.  The warrior’s face fell

“Thor, buddy, I…”

Thor blushed red with shame and confusion

“Hawkeye, forgive me!  I thought that you desired me. That you wished to…”

He pulled his towel over his lap, staring down at the floor in humiliation.

“I should not have assumed such a thing. Please forgive me…”

“Hey, BB! It’s not that, honest…” he leaned forward and took Thor’s hand in both of his “I kinda do want you, but I thought you and Ainsley…”

Thor looked up at him, still flushed with embarrassment, words spilling out of his mouth in an ashamed torrent.

“On Asgard it is not uncommon for a warrior to have many bed-mates, even if his heart belongs only to one.  The appetites of our bodies are great and not easily sated…”

Thor stared down at Clint’s hands.  He had taken more than one companion to bed before, sometimes several.  His own appetite was immense and there had been many maidens of Asgard happy to help him satisfy it.  Osa would often bring friends with her, there had been one with copper-gold hair whose taste was like new honey.  But Osa had only delighted his body.  Ainsley was the compass-star of his soul…

“…I thought it would be the same here, it was not a thing I thought to ask about. From your words, I understand it is not.  Please forgive me and do not tell Ainsley of my foolishness.”

A devious plan began to form in Clint’s mind.  It wouldn’t break his promise to Doc and it might get the Big Blond off the hook of misery he was currently twisting on.

“It’s not quite the same here” Clint began carefully “But a lot of male couples have what’re called open relationships; where they sometimes invite a friend, or someone they like, to join with one or both of them now and again.”

Thor looked back up at Clint, pondering this new information.  There were many complexities to this World of Midgard that he still had to understand. 

“Would you wish to share a bed with me and Ainsley?” He asked “I know that you desire him also, I have seen the way you look at him when you think no-one is watching.”

He lowered his head again

“I cannot pretend that does not displease me, but you have always treated him with the greatest of respect.  More respect than I have just shown you…”

Clint took the gamble and leaned over, kissing Thor on the forehead

“I forgive you, BB. Let’s forget it happened….”

_Hey Hawkeye! Can you spell hypocrite?_

“…but if you and Ainsley both want me to I’m not going to say no if you ask me.”

Thor smiled in relief

“Thank you, I will find an opportunity to speak to Ainsley about this; but do not fear, I will make it seem as if it is my own idea.  I would not like him to think that I have embarrassed myself in this way.”

He raised the archer’s hand to his lips

“You are a true friend, Hawkeye. Thank you for this.”

“Just glad I could be here for you, man!” he said with a grin “Let’s go shower and dress then I’ll take you out for coffee.”

_You’re going to Hell for this, Barton!_

###

Ainsley sat in Anne Weaver’s office drinking tea and feeling pleasantly relaxed after a late lunch in the Faculty Dining Room.  So far, his experience at the Science and Technology Division Academy had been the opposite of his dismal ordeal at the Hub.  For a start, his new SHIELD clearance allowed him to know where the place was and arrange a more civilised mode of transport.  Tony had kindly loaned him the use of one of his private jets to travel to the nearest civilian airport. Dr Weaver had picked him up from there in one of the Academy cars and given him the VIP tour of the campus while explaining the nature of his position.

In general, it was more advisory than tutorial; providing analysis and evaluation to assist the teaching staff in their assessments.  On the teaching side, he would primarily be training cadets from Field Ops in the recognition and management of abnormal or dangerous psychological states in the field.  The duties felt remarkably light in view of the salary being offered, routine evaluation and training that wouldn’t require his presence at the Academy more than two or three days a week, and he had the sense that something out of the ordinary was going to be offered.

Anne handed him a slim file

“This is the main reason we wanted you, Dr Kerr, and why Director Fury was insistent on you receiving such a high clearance level for a civilian.”

He put down his tea and looked at the label on the file

“Index Asset and Evaluation Training Protocols” Ainsley peered at Dr Weaver over his glasses with an expression of amusement “Were all the good acronyms taken?”

“It’s a clumsy name” she agreed, laughing “but a vitally important and highly sensitive part of SHIELD’s work.  The number of people manifesting unusual abilities had been increasing slowly but exponentially over the last few years, we still don’t know why, and we urgently need to revise our protocols for identifying, assessing and handling them so they don’t become a threat to themselves or others.”

Ainsley closed the file and looked up at her

“That sounds rather… ominous.” He said carefully “I may not approve of everything I find in here, and I’m not noted for being shy in making my disapproval clear.”

“I don’t want you to be” replied Anne with a serious expression “Neither does Director Fury.  We believe that your talents as a psychologist and your emphatically humanitarian values uniquely qualify you to revise and apply these protocols to minimise the need for more extreme measures of containment and control.  We’ll also need you to review and re-evaluate the cases of those individuals currently under containment to determine if there are less restrictive methods of management”

“It suggests you want me to do a bit more than just consult” observed Ainsley as he accepted another cup of tea, comprehending why he was being offered such an extensive remuneration. 

Dr Weaver nodded

“It’s one of the reasons why Agent Hand was… less constructive… than she might have been.  Your work will require you to have a degree of back office interaction with some of the field agents working these cases.  Normally this type of oversight would only be undertaken by a SHIELD Agent but we simply don’t have anyone with your combination of abilities and you have been engaged in a not dissimilar project in the recent past.”

The young psychologist smiled quietly.  Of course, they would know about the work he’d done for MI6.  Anne folded her hands on the desk and looked down at them

“There was an incident in Bahrain a few years ago, a routine asset evaluation that went tragically wrong and resulted in a number of civilians and agents losing their lives.  We would like to ensure nothing like that ever happens again.”

Ainsley sat back in his chair

“I would need to have access to all the relevant records of past and present cases, and talk to some of the agents involved; particularly the Bahrain case.  I’ll require a full understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of the current protocols in practise before I can begin to make my own recommendations.  Will that be a problem?”

Agent Weaver considered for a moment.

“The files won’t be an issue.  With the agents, we’ll need to work around their field schedules but that shouldn’t be a problem, you’ll be working in one capacity or another with most of them at some point anyway.  Unfortunately, it’s possible there are some you won’t be able to speak to because of the nature of their current assignments but again we can find ways around that so you have the fullest possible picture of events.”

Her verbal and body language was carefully neutral, conveying little beyond the bare facts; suggesting to Ainsley that something was being held back but without providing any tell as to what it might be.  Not surprising, an organisation like SHIELD was full of layered secrets like a giant puzzle box.  He couldn’t help thinking of the Hellraiser movies and wondering what demons this particular box might conceal.

“Well” he said cheerfully “I think I’m going to enjoy working here.”

The conversation turned to practicalities and finally to general pleasantries.  Ainsley genuinely liked Anne Weaver, they shared similar enthusiasms and her dedication to the wellbeing of her students was obvious.  He gracefully declined the offer to stay overnight.  Experience taught him that campus guest accommodation was best left as a last resort; besides, Thor had been having his nightmare again and he didn’t like the idea of his lover waking from those horrors and not having a comforting presence beside him.

Tony’s jet would have him back in New York just after dinner so that would give them a few hours to relax together before sleep.

###

They’d stopped in at a nearby games store after having coffee and Clint picked up the new “Avengers of New York” game.  Predictably, Steve thought the idea was crass and commercial until he was persuaded to have a go and got hooked instantly.  Clint and Thor were making popcorn while Tony and Steve took a turn on the console.  Digital Iron Man seemed to spend more time beating up Digital Captain America than attacking the bad guys.

Thor felt his phone vibrate and checked it, a message from Ainsley

**All good here at the Academy. Anne lovely. Back around 10. Fresh Moussaka in the fridge. DO NOT GET JUNK FOOD AGAIN. xxx A**

“What’s Sherlock saying?” asked Tony as Iron Man got Cap’s shield in his CGI face “Hey, cheating! I was distracted!”

Thor grinned and winked at Clint

“He says he has had a very good time, he will be back after dinner, and we are just to get pizza.”


	5. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline 2nd week of July 2013  
> A month has passed and life is settling into comfortable routines.   
> Thor and Clint decide it’s time to properly remember an old friend. An evening of reminiscences leads to the archer getting what he was looking for but maybe more than he bargained for.  
> Ainsley and Thor meet Miranda and behind the scenes another relationship is quietly simmering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homo-eroticism and extensive reference to the use of recreational drugs.

“Hey guys!  How’s it going? Your usual today or can I get you something else?”

The waitress’s voice was bright and cheerful, seeing her favourite regulars always perked up her day.

“Just the usual for me please, Beth” said Clint “’Bjorn’, what’ll you have?”

Thor grinned, as he always did at hearing the name.  ‘Bjorn Erikson’ had been born three weeks ago, after Tony joked Thor needed a ‘public identity’ rather than a secret one.  They put their heads together and by the end of the evening invented a fictional Norwegian, ex special forces, working as a security guard for Tony Stark; who was into death metal, parkour and Batman.  Thor had chosen the surname Erikson in honour of his first friend on Midgard.  He liked the name and enjoyed playing the part when he was out and about in public. Bjorn meant ‘Bear’ in the Old Tongue and Ainsley had taken to calling him his ‘Snuggie Bear’ as a fond endearment.

“I think I will have a hot chocolate please, Beth. But not too many of the little marshmallows”

She smiled

“Tell you what, I’ll bring you them separate and you can decide how many you want.”

Thor gave her a friendly wink

“Thank you very much.  I do not want to have to go home and wash my beard.”

Steve had introduced them to the café as a place to wind down after their morning runs and it had become a regular part of their routine.  Steve and Thor had taken enthusiastically to free-running. Both were fast and agile for their size, although lacking Clint’s acrobatic skills so the archer could keep up a good pace alongside them.  Natasha had come along a few times, but she preferred to take her exercise alone and was content to let the boys have their ‘running club’ to themselves.

It had just been Thor and Clint this morning, Steve wasn’t due back till later in the day, but the coffee stop was part of the ritual now and had to be kept up, otherwise they felt like they were missing something.  It was almost always the same waitress who served them and she usually added a couple of free pastries to their order.  It was obvious to all of them, except Steve, that the woman had a major crush on the big soldier. 

Sometimes Ainsley would be there when they arrived, having an al-fresco breakfast and waiting to hear about their adventures, but he was out of town until early evening.  He’d been at the Academy yesterday and stayed overnight to finish off some of his preliminary evaluations.

The Asset Evaluation Protocols were a big deal and Clint was impressed how Doc had thrown himself passionately into the work with concentrated intensity; surprising those SHIELD agents who’d thought of him as just some pissy intellectual dandy, brought in by Fury as a favour to Thor.  It made him realise exactly why the Director was so keen to have the Englishman on board.  Underneath the light, cultured, charm was a mind like a laser. Once it was focussed on something you didn’t want to be in the way. 

He was working on the Bahrain file just now.  The disaster there had passed into SHIELD legend and was a big part of why the higher-ups were so keen to redraw the protocols.  Clint hadn’t been involved, Index stuff wasn’t his kinda work, but Phil had been the Supervising Officer in the field and he’d told him as much as he felt he could.  Clint had never seen his old friend and S. O. that shaken up before.

Beth was back with their orders, including a plate of complimentary mini-Danishes.  She put a pile of extra sugar sachets beside Clint’s cup

“You’re going to make yourself sick with all that sugar” she said in mock-reproof.

Thor laughed

“He is sick enough already!”

Clint had to grin, that was a good joke by Thor standards, but the thought of Phil was bringing all the usual shit in its wake and he could feel his good mood fading.

“Is something wrong, Clint?” Thor asked once Beth was out of earshot.

“Thinking about Phil again” Clint sighed “Hate that every time I remember him it just keeps pulling up everything that happened back then.”

Thor nodded dolefully.  He owed much, perhaps his life, to the Son of Coul.  The man should have handed him over to the torturers but instead released him to Erik Selvig.  He was under no misunderstanding about what would have happened to him otherwise.  SHIELD had men skilled at extracting the truth by whatever means were needed and the brutal will to do so; but his truth would have been unbelievable and he lacked the knowledge and craft to weave a lie that would satisfy them.  It was still the substance of his nightmares.

Trapped by his own headstrong foolishness in the cage intended to restrain the Hulk, he had been unable to save the one who saved him; reduced to crying out in futile rage as Loki ripped that good man’s heart in two with his sceptre. Just as he had ripped apart the mind and spirit of the brave friend sitting opposite him.  He knew that Clint suffered much from what had been done to him, even more because he had no memory of the acts he had committed.  He reached out and placed his hand upon Clint’s

“It was Loki, not you, who wielded the blade.  He alone was responsible for the Son of Coul’s death.   If anyone else should be blamed it is I for allowing myself to be fooled by my brother’s tricks.”

A terrible wrong had been done to this man by one who had been of the House of Odin, albeit by adoption; a wrong made worse by the cruel way his former comrades piled the blame upon his head.  However lowly the AllFather might regard the inhabitants of Midgard, in his heart Thor felt a great Blood-Debt to the archer that it would take much to repay.

Clint glanced up at his friend and smiled sadly.  Maybe if people told him that often enough he could begin to believe it one day.  Thor came to a decision

“He was a brave man and would want you to remember him without punishing yourself.  Tonight, we shall drink and honour his memory properly.”

Thor was using his ‘No Arguments’ voice.  Clint knew that even if he tried to duck out of it, the Big Blond would track him down, drag him screaming to the living room and force feed him alcohol till he was co-operative.  He laughed ruefully.  Thor was right, Phil would want to be remembered for the good times.

###

Yeah, the Big Blond had been spot on.  It didn’t take away the pain but it made it easier to think about his friend; feet up on the couch, drinking beer after beer and remembering the jokes, the pranks and the times Coulson had hauled his dumb Iowa ass out the fire.  Literally, once, when a fuel dump had exploded as he made for the escape chopper.  It had taken off with him dangling underneath, Phil holding onto him by the back of his jacket to stop him falling into a lake of burning petrol.  He’d needed to change his shorts after that one.

Best one ever was when he’d still been a cadet at Field Ops Academy.  He’d got one of those joke-shop car-scratches and stuck it onto Lola, Phil’s treasured red Corvette, when she was in the parking lot.  You could hear the scream right across the campus; he hadn’t thought Phil knew half those words.  There’d been a downside of course; spending the entire night with a bucket of warm soapy water and a small sponge, removing the sticker millimetre by millimetre to avoid damaging the paint; followed by a 10-mile run at 6am in full kit and backpack.

Phil’s only comment?  “That was funny.  Touch Lola again and I’ll assign you to Admin.”

Clint was smiling despite the tears in his eyes.  He raised his beer

“Here’s to you, Phil! You made me who I am” he drained the bottle to the dregs “Hope they don’t hold that against you wherever you are.”

They had the place to themselves, more or less.  Tony, Pepper and Steve were off at a Stark Foundation fundraiser at the Met; Tony hadn’t been too happy when he heard they were bailing as it meant he would be stuck making conversation with Steve.  Steve didn’t look thrilled at the prospect either.  Bruce would either be in one of the labs or in his rooms and Natasha was ‘out’; that could mean anything from cocktails with Maria Hill to sudden death in the shadows.  Ainsley had rustled up spaghetti with Bolognese sauce and there was plenty of beer, even for Thor.

“So, Doc” Clint asked, accepting another beer “who was the man that made you?”

Ainsley smiled and answered without hesitation

“Karl-Heinrich Feldermann.  He gave a guest lecture at my school in our final year and from that point I knew that I wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

He sat down and poured himself a glass of wine

“I did my clinical studies with him in Vienna.  He’d worked with Jung, known Freud and Adler; had a truly great, compassionate mind.  He believed that disorders of the psyche couldn’t be separated from the whole picture of a person’s life or the environment in which they lived.  Heal one and you work towards healing the other.”

He lapsed into silence for a moment.  Saying he ‘worked’ with Feldermann barely scratched the surface.  For the last years of the brilliant man’s life he had been student, assistant and finally colleague, helping the almost blind, wheelchair bound, psychologist to deal with his final cases.  The man had probably saved him from going insane after Izzie’s death.

“His critics say he degenerated into mysticism at the end, talking about the resurgence of ‘primitive’ archetypes into objective consciousness, but I think his ideas were never clearer than at that point. If he’d lived a few months more he would have seen them vindicated in a way none of us would have thought possible.”

He looked affectionately at his lover

“What about you, babe? Who shaped my big blond warrior?”

Thor smiled

“There was a great captain of my father’s Einherjar, Snorri Haakonson; he instructed me in all the skills of the warrior.  It is because of him that I always push myself to be the best in all I lay my hand to.  He taught me I should do no less even if I did not always succeed.  I will never forget the admiration in his eyes when father bestowed on me the wielding of Mjolnir.”

He drained his beer and his face became sad

“The year before I was banished he finally became too old and sick to serve.  He took sword and shield then went out into the wildernesses of the Nine Realms to battle beasts until one claimed him at the last.  It is a way of the Einherjar.  I mourn and miss him, but I am glad he did not live to see my disgrace.”

He leaned over to Ainsley, kissing him for a long time

“And there is the gentle healer of the House of Kerr, who is the apple-orchard where my heart finds peace.”

Clint was too wrapped up in his memories of Phil to notice the questioning look Thor gave to Ainsley, or the doctor’s answering nod. He sighed deeply

“I dunno about you guys, but I could do with something way stronger than beer right now.”

Ainsley got up with an impish grin and walked over to where his jacket was slung over the back of one of the kitchen stools.  He took a plastic bag full of green buds out of his pocket

“Something like this perhaps?”

Clint’s face split in a wide grin.  He took the bag and opened it, savouring the rich, sticky, aroma.

“Hell, Doc! Where the fuck didya lay your hands on this?”

The young psychologist gave him a reproachful stare

“I’m working in a cutting-edge science and technology academy; do you really think that after a month I wouldn’t have located the student with the most advanced hydroponic farm on the Eastern Seaboard?”

“Are these intoxicating herbs?” Thor asked eagerly “We have such plants on Asgard, they are highly esteemed.”

“They sure are, BB!” replied Clint “Gimme 5 minutes, I got just the thing!”

He dashed off and quickly re-appeared holding a large bong made of purple glass

“Guys, meet Miranda…”

###

“So… guys… The thing about archery is…”

Clint gestured vaguely with his spoon and a dollop of frozen yoghurt fell onto his shoulder. He twisted his head and tried to lick it up before it soaked into his shirt, after the third attempt he turned to Ainsley, who was trying to make another batch of popcorn without scattering kernels all over the kitchen.

“Doc… you’re a doctor, right? Why can’t I lick my own shoulder?”

“Not that kind of a doctor… Shit!” replied Ainsley as another handful of corn went bouncing over the worktop “Think your spine’s probably why, or your tongue’s too short.”

Clint pondered this line of reasoning as he scraped the mess off with the spoon and popped it into his mouth.

“So… If didn’t have spine… I could lick m’ own shoulder? Cool!”

Thor took another deep hit off the bong.  This Midgardian herb was very pleasing, stronger than the ones of Asgard and with a strange, exciting effect.  His body tingled, an electrical vibration under the skin, as if he could call the lightning without having Mjolnir in hand.  He sat cross-legged on the floor, hair hanging loose around his head and shoulders, and closed his eyes to enjoy the coloured patterns that flitted across the inside of his eyelids.  His mouth felt unusual, as if moist and dry at the same time, and with a heightened sense of taste.  He wanted Ainsley to finish what he was doing in the kitchen and come over so he could kiss him.

If only he could figure out how to stand up…

“So, what is the thing about archery?” asked Ainsley, giving up on the popcorn and starting to fix tea for them all.  He was getting a bit of desert mouth himself and it was the best remedy in his opinion.

“See…” said Clint, scraping round the inside of the tub with the spoon as he pulled his mind back from thinking of all the fun things he could do if he didn’t have a spine restricting him “Thing ‘bout archer’ is….  gotta have your centre.  Don’t got your centre…. arrow don’ fly right.  Gotta let it go… when it wants to.”

He was warming to his theme, astounded by his own eloquence in explaining it

“Don’t got centre, you’re just…. just…”

He was drying up and looked to the doctor for assistance as he placed a mug of tea down for the archer.

“Just a man with a bow and arrow?”

“Yesss!!!!” Clint exclaimed with triumph “Knew you’d get it, Doc.  ‘M not jus’ man with… bow and arrow… ‘m Hawkeye!!! Never miss…”

“You never do” smiled Ainsley.  Wiping the yoghurt of the archer’s mouth he leaned in and kissed him, enjoying the expression of wide eyed astonishment on the other man’s face. As Clint stared at him open mouthed in disbelief he took Thor his tea and sat down on the floor beside him.  Ainsley took the Asgardian’s face in his hands and kissed him as well. Thor responded with an intense hunger and the pair of them fell backwards onto an unopened bag of Doritos.  It exploded with a loud ‘pop!’, scattering tortilla chips over the rug.

 “What the HELL are you three up to?”.

Tony, Steve and Pepper were standing at the top of the steps down to the lounge, wearing expressions of, respectively, theatrical outrage, disapproval and open amusement.  Tony sniffed the air suspiciously.

“You fuckers! You’ve got weed! Really. Good. Weed!” He stared at them with a hurt look “And you didn’t tell me!”

“Uh, Jarvis” said Ainsley “Didn’t I ask you to inform us when the others arrived in the lobby?”

“You did, Dr Kerr. But they did not arrive in the lobby, they came up from the parking garage”

“Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be too precise with Jarvis” Tony smirked as he strolled down the steps, throwing his tuxedo over the back of a chair. “He can be rather literal.  I think he may be developing a sense of humour.”

Steve spotted Miranda sitting on the coffee table

“Have you been smoking reefer?” he demanded.  Clint poured the last of the melted yoghurt straight into his mouth from the tub.

“First of all… Cap, it’s legal now… Second, nobody calls it reefer anymore, third – we’re…” he shook the last dribble out with dismay on his face “…out of frozen yoghurt.”

Ainsley turned to Tony with an air of well-baked dignity.

“In our defence, we have demonstrated that THC affects the Asgardian physiology in much the same way as the human.  This may prove to be useful information and deserving of future study.”

“Next time I will not break the Doritos” added Thor apologetically.  Pepper gave up trying to keep a straight face

“We should have bailed on the fundraiser…” she laughed” and taken gallery seats at the penthouse floorshow…”

Tony strode over to Miranda, took a deep hit, exhaled and pointed dramatically at the waiting elevator “Hey, Velma! Take Shaggy and Scooby and get your stoned asses out of here before I suit up and kick them out!”

“And I want this mess cleaned up first thing!” He yelled as they stumbled up the steps together

“Uh-oh!” laughed Clint “Uncle Tony’s pissed!”

###

Clint must have dozed off during the movie.  The TV was off and light jazz played in the background.  The three of them were “snuggied” as Thor insisted on pronouncing it, on the huge, crescent shaped, red velvet couch in the living area of the apartment Thor and Ainsley shared.

Thor was sprawled on the couch between him and Ainsley, his arms around the pair of them.  Clint realised his head was resting on Thor’s broad chest and, looking up, saw that the Asgardian was kissing his lover with intense, gentle slowness while he traced the curve of the archer’s bicep with a large thumb.

A deep, passionate intimacy filled the room. The air vibrated with sexual energy, but under that a sense of the profound connection between the two that had made Thor refuse to come back to New York without his lover.

Suddenly Clint felt ashamed of his attempt to intrude, as if he was trespassing into something special and private, and that it was time for him to withdraw.

He pantomimed a yawn

“Well, you guys, it’s been a great night but I’m wasted”

Ainsley looked at him and smiled, reaching across to stroke Clint’s cheek gently

“You’re welcome to stay here”

The archer hesitated, realising on some level that he was being offered entry to something deeper than a mere sexual adventure. 

“Thanks guys, but you deserve your privacy, maybe another night” He tried to give a casual grin

Thor pulled him in closer and kissed him gently on the lips, and then again, firmer and deeper; his tongue probing into the other man’s mouth. Clint’s head felt like it was spinning

_Hell, this guy can kiss!_

 A faint electrical charge shuddered through him.

“Please. Stay” Thor’s voice was a deep, sensual rumble that Clint could feel in his belly “With us. In bed”

They were both looking at him with tender expectation, waiting for his response.  He could feel himself shaking from head to foot, desperate to surrender completely to whatever was about to happen but still terrified of what might come after such a release of his defences.

Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded his head and gently, but firmly, Thor lifted his lover and his friend and led them through to bed.

###

It was already light outside, but Saturday morning was usually a late one for most of the permanent residents of Stark Tower.  Clint woke slowly, his head still fuzzy from the night before. Thor lay sprawled on the bed beside him fast asleep, twitching slightly, and drooling onto the pillow.

_So, it was real then_

He rummaged for his boxers in the pile of clothes beside the bed. Pulling them on he sat up, stretching his back to get the kinks out.

_Damn, that was amazing!_

Doc’s mouth had been on his, tongue exploring skilfully, as Thor dragged them onto the bed and began stripping them both.  The Big Blond seemed to have a kink about undressing his lovers before removing his own clothes, making the whole thing part of the foreplay.  Even before his pants had been halfway down he’d felt Thor’s hot breath between his legs and almost lost it when that warm, strong, raspy tongue went to work.

One of Clint’s ex-girlfriends had called him the ‘patron-saint of oral sex’; well, Thor was god of more than just the thunder that was for certain!  As for Doc? Wow! The slim Englishman wasn’t far behind in making a guy feel like his blood had been replaced with warm honey.  He was sure he’d been damn near screaming out loud when Doc was astride him and the Big Blond’s face was buried in his butt.

He couldn’t say how many times they’d done it but it was more action than he’d had in the last couple of months put together.  Lucky he’d always kept himself flexible!

He winced as he realised he still had his hearing aids in.  No matter how well they fitted, having them in for 24 hours on the go still irritated his ears.

He looked over to the other side of the bed.  Ainsley was already dressed and up.  That was good, meant coffee was brewing upstairs. 

“Right” He muttered to himself “Coffee first, then let’s get these fuckers out for a couple of hours’ peace”.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air in the lounge as Ainsley cleaned up the last of the mess in the kitchen area.  He gestured with his thumb to a mug waiting beside the coffee machine, knowing better than to speak to the archer before his first caffeine hit of the day.

Clint grunted his thanks, filling the mug and shovelling in sugar.  He leaned back against the counter, inhaled the aroma and took a long slow drink, draining half the mug and relishing the warmth spreading down into his stomach before the shockwave ran through his limbs.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, fuck, that hits the spot!” he exclaimed in mild ecstasy.

“That’s pretty much what you were saying all last night” laughed Ainsley and gave him a hug “How’re you this morning?”

“Ruined for life but otherwise fine.  You? You’re up and about early aren’t you?”

“Yeah” replied Ainsley, flicking the last of the crumbs into the bin “I always wake early when I’m stoned for some reason.  Besides, Tony seemed pretty serious about getting the mess cleaned up and I haven’t been here long enough to presume on his good graces”

“Bullshit” snorted Clint “Tony’s full of piss and wind and you’re about the only normal person in this menagerie, not that that’s saying much!”

Clint tousled the young doctor’s hair, not sure if a kiss would be the right thing. He leaned back against the counter and took a breath.

“So, last night, was that…?”

“A one off?” Ainsley leaned in and gave him a hug, then pulled back and rounded that off with a peck on the lips. 

“It’s whatever you want to make it, but I’m not a one-off kind of man.  Neither is Thor.  We both like you, and we would really love to have you as a part of our life; even though I know it was you who put the idea into Thor’s head in the first place”

Clint blushed and took another gulp of coffee

“Shoulda guessed you’d work that out pretty quick” he muttered

Ainsley nodded

“It almost put me off the idea altogether, to be honest; but you were smart enough not to push it so, hey, here we are!”

“Yeah” replied Clint, still a bit embarrassed “You know I’ve got some pretty major issues I’m working through?”

The doctor stroked the archer’s cheek, a gesture reminiscent of the night before.

“I know, far more than you should be expected to deal with on your own.  If you’re willing, the three of us can work through all that together.”

After a pause, Clint leaned in and gave him the kiss he had been wanting to

“I’m game, if you’re capable of coping with my crazy.”

“You’ve not seen mine yet!” Ainsley laughed “Do you want to come back down for a bit?  Thor will probably be awake soon and he likes to ‘snuggie’ for a while in the morning.”

The idea was tempting, but the throbbing in his ears was getting worse and starting to make him a bit nauseous.

“Thanks, but I need to grab a shower and clear my head – I promised Tasha a sparring session after her swim.  Catch up with you both around lunchtime?”

He was trying to be as nonchalant as possible.  Ainsley looked at him for a moment as he finished brewing his tea

“No problem!  Could you just tell me one thing?”

“Sure! Fire away!”

“How long have you been deaf?”

He caught the archer’s mug as it slipped out of his hand.

“Did Tasha tell you?” he hissed angrily, immediately on the defensive. 

Ainsley remained calm, knowing this was one of Clint’s most sensitive points

“No-one told me.  I’ve suspected for a while, ever since the way you reacted to those guys who tried to attack us last month.”

“And?”

Clint felt a tight band of anxiety about his chest.  If a newcomer like Ainsley could work it out so quickly maybe the others also knew. Ainsley put a re-assuring hand on the other man’s shoulder and was relieved that he didn’t shrug it off. 

“There are a few tells in the way you act and speak, especially if you don’t have your hearing aids in; which only seems to be early in the mornings.  I’m thinking that’s the real reason you don’t like talking to people first thing?”

Clint nodded, still tense and un-nerved by the way the doctor could read him.  He understood why Bruce avoided Ainsley even more than he did the others, if Doc wasn’t so kind and likeable he’d be more than a bit scary.

“It’s very subtle” Ainsley continued “If you didn’t have reason to guess you wouldn’t notice it.  My cousin Ginnie is 70% deaf in both ears and she can be the same.”

He put down his tea and gave Clint a hug; the archer was trembling, sensing the fight-flight response deep in his guts.

Clint swallowed deeply and stepped back.  Still un-nerved but feeling a strange relief, realising there was the chance of someone else he could trust and didn’t have to hide from.

“You won’t tell anyone”

It could have been a question or an instruction.  In another tone of voice, it might easily have been a threat.

“Don’t worry” replied the doctor “I would never break a confidentiality under any circumstances.  If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll shut up”

He made a zipper gesture across his mouth.  Clint laughed, scattering the remaining scraps of tension.

“Sorry Doc, you just wrong footed me there and I’m not used to that!  I’ll bet Fury’s glad you’re on our side.”

Ainsley smiled and embraced him again, this time Clint didn’t step away

“I’m on your side, that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m on Fury’s.  I take it he and Tasha are the only other ones who know? I’ve noticed you signing with her, that was another one of the clues.  I imagine the others assume it’s just something you use for a private code”

“Fury, Tasha and a couple of the medical guys; I have to get my hearing checked out quarterly as part of Fury’s agreement to keep it quiet” he paused for a moment “Can you sign?”

“Only British Sign Language, which is completely different to American so you and Tasha can keep your knitting secrets”

Clint smirked

“They are secrets worth killing for, but I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll teach you ASL and once you’re fluent I’ll sign you how this happened”

“Deal!” said Ainsley, sealing it with another kiss.  The elevator doors opened and Tony breezed in wrapped in a shocking orange bath robe

“My eyesss!!! They burrrnnnn!!!” shrieked Clint, ducking behind the counter.

“Morning Druggies!” Tony exclaimed brightly as he strolled over “Recovered from the night’s debauchery? I take it from the Bach Porn Cantata that Hunger Games got to taste the rainbow at last?”

He poured himself a cup of coffee and began sorting out fruit on the worktop.

“All the way to the pot of gold” responded Clint, with a shit-eating grin

Tony cocked his head

“Hmm, not bad! Should’ve saved that for when Steve was in audio range”

Ainsley scratched his neck nervously

“Um… we weren’t really that loud, were we?”

“Loud?” laughed Tony “The switchboard was getting calls from Animal Rescue asking if we had a pack of wolves trapped up here.  If you’ve traumatised the Capsicle, Fury will never forgive you…”

He looked around at the spotless living area

“Dayyumm, Velma!  You done clean this place goooood! Maybe I should fire the maid?”

Ainsley arched an eyebrow

“Maybe you should fire your speechwriter?  I’m guessing in this extended analogy that Steve is Fred and Tasha’s Daphne?”

“What extended analogy?” asked Natasha, popping half a strawberry into her mouth from the growing pile of diced fruit.  All three men jumped

“Shit, Tash!  How long have you been lurking around?” barked Clint

“Long enough” she replied, throwing a meaningful glance at Clint and Ainsley “What extended analogy?”

“Oh, just Tony’s Scooby Doo fantasy” Ainsley replied lightly, guessing that a Conversation was going to happen with her, him and Clint before too long.

“Mmm, ok” she answered, munching on another strawberry as Tony fired up the juicer

“Wait!” She pointed an accusing finger “Movie or cartoon?”

“Uh, Movie?” ventured Clint cautiously.  She tilted her head in mock thought

“Cool! You get to live” She flashed him a reassuring smile which faded as she opened the fridge door. 

“That will be rescinded if you haven’t replaced my cranberry frozen yoghurt by the time I’ve finished my swim” she glared at the archer “You have thirty minutes and counting.”

###

“So, did he?” ask Bruce, taking the coffee she had brought him.  There was a plate of scrambled eggs as well, and fresh toast, enough for two.  Natasha always made sure he didn’t rely entirely on protein bars and bottled smoothies when working on a project.

“Only just in time” she laughed “but sheer terror has always been one of Clint’s best motivators.”

He tried the eggs; they were perfect, light and fluffy with just the right amount of seasoning

“You’re not happy about last night, are you?”

Bruce might not spend much time around the others, but he was sensitive to the moods of the place and to hers in particular.  She spread some egg onto the corner of a piece of toast and munched on it.

“I don’t believe Clint really knows what he may be getting into.  Thor and Ainsley have a very intense relationship and I doubt they imagine this as some occasional three-way to spice up their love life”

The quiet scientist smiled.  Natasha could be very protective of Clint, sometimes a bit over-protective, and he wondered if she was feeling just a shred of jealousy at her friend having these new companions in his life. 

“Intense” he said aloud, musingly “as opposed to our glacial pace?”

She smiled and put her hand on his

“I like our glacial pace, it’s part of our island of sanity in this ocean of chaos.  I just worry that Clint…”

“Look, I may not like what Ainsley is…” he laughed at her expression of surprise “I mean a psychologist, not a homosexual; but he’s a good, understanding, man and I’m certain he knows what he’s doing even if Clint doesn’t.  I wouldn’t be too worried.”

He paused and took Natasha’s hand in both of his.

“I actually like Ainsley a lot, in different circumstances we’d probably be very good friends, but he likes to get into other people’s heads and find out what makes them tick.  It’s who he is and there’s no malice in it, but I can feel the ‘Other Guy’ doesn’t like that and good intentions don’t matter to him.”

He let go of her hands and picked up his coffee with a wry smile on his face

“So much for the island of sanity.  Atlantis probably had steadier foundations”

She laughed, Bruce might be more reserved than some of the others but his dry humour always cheered her

“We’ve got a virtual God who likes junk food and Batman comics, an artificially enhanced super-soldier who goes beetroot red at any sexual reference, an egomaniac billionaire in a flying metal suit and a man-child assassin who spends half his time in the ventilation system.  Sanity is very definitely relative”

Bruce pondered this for a moment

“So, what does that make us; Beauty and the Beast?”

The look Tasha gave him was thoughtful, almost sad

“Let’s not be too quick to assign roles.”

Bruce lowered his head briefly; he knew little of Tasha’s past but there had been hints of the darkness in it and the secrets that she kept.  Then he noticed the time; a crazy idea leapt into his head

“It’s almost 1pm, fancy escaping the madhouse for an actual lunch in the real world?”

She laughed

“Sure! I’ll get my coat”

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Getting to know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline: End of July 2013  
> An innocent question from Cap sparks a night of intense emotion in the Penthouse.  
> Hawkeye and Ainsley are drawn closer when the archer discovers a connection to the young doctor’s tragic past and is prompted to reveal his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong language and some homo-eroticism. References to violence and physical abuse.

Natasha Romanoff dropped down on the couch beside Hawkeye, placed a fresh beer in front of him and took a drink from her own.

The archer grunted a ‘thanks’, intent on the game; frowning with concentration as he worked the controls.

Natasha smiled.  She enjoyed watching him play his games, especially the adventure and racing ones he preferred, professing to believe his explanations about good training in manual and visual dexterity.

The level boss finally defeated, he hit the ‘pause’ button and fell back with a contented sigh.  Swigging some beer, he swirled it around his mouth thoughtfully, then turned to his friend

“Tash, you ever get déjà vu?”

She picked some of the metal foil of the neck of her bottle. 

“Not really, once is usually enough for me.  Why ask?”

Clint stopped trying to balance the bottle of beer on his stomach and sat up, cradling it in his hands

“It’s something that’s been bugging me recently.  Ever since I met Ainsley I’ve had the feeling we’ve met somewhere before, or at least seen each other.”

It wasn’t impossible she thought, having another drink.  Facial recognition was an important part of the skill set for the type of work they did. Could be a lifesaver sometimes.

“Well you’ve been in London.  Maybe you saw him in a bar, or perhaps a steam-room?” Her sidelong glance was disapproving

He chuckled. 

“I think I’d remember that.  Hell, I hope he would too!  Ainsley’s not the bath-house type though, me neither.  Those places could have been built with a hit in mind.  Wouldn’t want you to see crime-scene photos of me in a gimp mask and jockstrap”

Natasha glared at her friend. 

“I seem to remember you didn’t mind too much in Copenhagen.”

Clint’ laugh was short and loud,

“I know.  I’m a bad boy who takes unnecessary risks.  Still doesn’t tell me where I think I’ve seen Ainsley before though.”

She sat back and drank some more beer

“He has got a reputation in his field.  Perhaps you saw his picture in a magazine?”

Clint’s look had ‘You’re joking, of course?’ written all over it

“Yeah, ‘cause you know how much I love to keep up to date with the glamorous world of abnormal psychology.”

He picked up the controller again

“It’ll come to me eventually.  One more level…?”

###

“I am so full!  Guys, that was amazing.”  Steve patted his stomach in satisfaction. 

It was just the four of them tonight; five if you counted Bruce, but he had been virtually living in Research and Development for the last few days, engrossed in some project he was working on with Tony. 

Tony and Pepper were spending the weekend at the Beach House, at Pepper’s insistence, while Thor was away for a week taking a selected group of the Field Ops Academy cadets on a wilderness survival course. 

When he had made his first visit to the Field Ops Academy, Thor had pointed out what he thought were some glaring omissions in the wilderness training on offer.  It turned out living and surviving in hostile environments was a major part of Asgardian warrior training and his bush-craft skills were formidable, so he had been offered the opportunity to take some of the senior cadets out and put them through what he deemed to be proper field experience.

Tasha and Ainsley had volunteered to cook so, instead of the usual Friday night take-out and beer, they had curried prawns, savoury wild rice and home-made garlic bread washed down with some white wine with a name that Clint and Steve couldn’t pronounce.   The archer grinned, feeling his body slip into a happy food-coma.  Anyone who didn’t really know Tasha was always surprised at her culinary skills.  Watching her laughing and joking with Ainsley as they prepared dinner had been fun, like one of those cook-off shows Tony claimed not to enjoy.

“Why don’t we have this more often?” Clint wondered aloud then laughed as he caught the look on her face and remembered.

Thor’s intolerance to shellfish had come a surprise to them all, including the big warrior and the other diners at the restaurant Tony and Pepper had taken them to a few days after Ainsley and Thor had moved in.  Edible shellfish were apparently not part of the Asgardian ecology and their digestive system was unable to handle them.  The reaction to this alien intrusion into his guts had been instantaneous and ‘Mighty’. 

“Oh yeah! God of Chunder!”

Tasha shook her head with a smile. It had been weeks before that joke went stale.  She piled some of the remaining food onto a plate with fresh garlic bread.

“Bruce has clearly forgotten about dinner so I’m going to take this up, before he scoffs it all” she gestured with the ladle towards Clint, scattering a few grains of rice in the process.  Ainsley couldn’t help noticing a fresh bottle of Montrachet with two glasses on the tray and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

_**Don’t tell** _

The signing was discreet, even though Clint’s back was to her.  Ainsley’s nod of response almost imperceptible.

“I’ll not be long” she called to them as she entered the elevator

_Liar_ he thought, with a smile.

Steve poured himself another big glass of the fancy wine.  He would have preferred beer to be honest but this stuff packed an unexpected kick.  Even though his system metabolised alcohol so fast it was hard for him to get properly drunk he could feel it going to his head slightly.  Maybe it was the unfamiliarity.  1930’s Brooklyn didn’t have wine at the dinner table.  That was for people in the movies and, well, rich fags. 

_That’s not a nice word_ he reminded himself. He wouldn’t want to say something like that around anyone but especially not Dr Kerr, he was a good man. Classy, like the British guys he used to see in the movies with their servants, shiny motors and big country houses; the sort Peggy Carter had grown up around, that he’d met in London during the war.  Heck, Dr Kerr’s grand-daddy was maybe one of those fancy British officers with all the gold braid and medals. 

“What was it like for you guys growing up?” he asked out loud. 

His interest was genuine, the desire to find out how much had changed or stayed the same since his own narrow childhood in the Depression; especially since Dr Kerr and Barton had such different backgrounds.  Maybe it was the wine but tonight he really wanted to know.

_Fuck, not this again_ thought Clint

“Look Cap” he tried to keep his voice light, but this was dangerous ground “Not all of us had the best time growing up so let’s talk about something else shall we?”

“Aw Hell, Barton” The wine must really be getting to him “I grew up in the Great Depression, you don’t get much worse than that. I mean you were a circus kid weren’t you? And you” he gestured to the doctor “I’ll bet you grew up in some big old place in the country with dogs and all that stuff”

The soldier, still flushed with the unanticipated potency of the wine, smiled; feeling like an eager kid again, staring at the fancy folks on the silver screen

“Didja have a butler?”

“Leave it, Steve!” hissed Clint, anger starting to show in his face. 

“No, actually” Ainsley’s answer was sharp, a brittle edge to his normally calm tones “we had a housekeeper, Mrs McGrory.  Her husband Jim did odd jobs in the house and gardens.  They had a flat above the stables…”

_Dogs; was it the barking of the McGrory’s dog that woke them up?_

Steve’s smile broadened. This was the real deal.  The next words hit him like bullets

“There was a fire” Ainsley said bluntly “just after Christmas.  My sister Isobel and I were 8. Someone managed to get us out.  Our older brother, Philip, died of his burns on the way to the hospital.  Our parents and grandparents died in the house”

_It must have been Pip; his bedroom was on the same landing as ours.  Mummy and Daddy were further up the main stairs.  The fire had already taken hold there and the roof was starting to fall_

There was something empty in the doctor’s voice, automatic, like the words were coming out on a conveyer belt. Clint moved to sit beside Ainsley putting an arm around his shoulders. He was still talking. Staring blankly at a spot on the rug, holding his half-finished wine, trying to drain the raw psychic wound.

“After that it was all family lawyers and trusts, boarding schools, staying with distant cousins during the school holidays.  Izzie and I hated being apart, we were inseparable during the holidays.  Shared an apartment at University.  I specialized in Psych, Izzie in Paediatrics.  ‘Real medicine, not your spooky mind stuff’ she used to say.”

Clint could feel the doctor shaking; a constant, shallow muscular trembling.  The archer swallowed, unsure of what was coming next.  He’d read about the fire in newspaper reports online when looking up some of Ainsley’s details out of curiosity ‘Seven Die in Country House Blaze Tragedy’, hadn’t bothered to read much further after that.

“I went to Vienna to work with Professor Feldermann. She went to out to Bafandi and…”

That was the point he broke down.  Clint held him close, feeling the young doctor convulse with grief.  His stomach had gone cold and tight at the mention of Bafandi.  The name might not mean anything to Captain Asshole Who Needs to Learn How to Fucking Google but he had been on the ground there, saw what happened.  Still gave him bad dreams.

Steve, astonished at what he had unleashed, stood up and made to step forward, his mouth opening to say something.  Clint glared at him with raw fury in his eyes.

“Fuck off, Steve! Fuck off, right now!” He went back to comforting Ainsley, cutting off any possible response. 

Steve had left by the time Ainsley started to straighten himself up, wiping his eyes and taking the glass of wine that Clint had filled for him.

“I’m sorry” his voice still shaking “You always tell yourself that time will make it hurt less but that’s just a therapeutic lie.  I lost a part of myself forever when they finally found her body”

He drained half the glass and made to stand up “I should apologise to Steve.  I didn’t mean to be so sharp about it all…”

“No!” Clint’s voice was steady but firm and he held the doctor in his seat “He had no right to push you into talking about things you didn’t want to.  Let him apologise first, then you can be all nice and Britishy and Dr Ainsley about it.”

Ainsley smiled shyly and held on to the other man’s hand, finding comfort in its warmth and the familiar calluses.  Clint was a real jackass at times but he could show a fierce, protective, heart and a profound empathy for the pain of others when he turned the clowning off.

“Would you like to see a picture of her?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.  Clint nodded

“Yeah, I’d like that”

Ainsley handed him a passport sized photograph. 

The young woman held the lens of the camera with a confident gaze.  Her light hair was tied up and back and a small gold crucifix shone against the deep green of her dress.  She looked intelligent and compassionate, her eyes the same gentle grey as her brother’s.  Despite the softer lines of her face the features were identical.  Dr Ainsley Kerr was handsome, but Dr Isobel Kerr had been beautiful.

Clint began to cry.  It wasn’t Ainsley he had met before.

“I think we need something stronger than the Montrachet” said Ainsley beginning to rise.  Clint grabbed him by the wrist, wiping away the tears with the heel of his free hand

“I met your sister”

The doctor sat down again, surprise and shock on his face.  Clint gulped down the rest of his wine and began to speak.

He had been with a SHIELD team on a training mission in Central Africa when the news came of the sudden explosion of savage inter-tribal violence in the Bafandi Republic.  They were re-assigned to aid the evacuation of hundreds of western tourists, businesspeople and diplomats trapped in and around the capital, Kintenge.  By the time they arrived, Etienne Banda International Airport was already a battleground and evacuation zones were being set up in the suburbs. 

“We were sent to protect a pick-up zone near a hospital on the south side of the city.  Some kinda charity place run by nuns”

Ainsley nodded

“St Joseph’s.  The Sisters of the Immaculate Heart, they’d got connections with Izzie’s old school and she’d always been passionate about their work.  She’d gone out there to set up a new paediatric clinic, talking about vocations a lot; her faith was deeper, richer, than mine.  She loved being in Bafandi, once the clinic was running she wanted to stay on and help keep it going”

Clint put his empty wine-glass to one side

“I think we will need something stronger, Doc!”

He continued speaking as Ainsley fetched a bottle of Tony’s best bourbon and a couple of glasses.  The mission brief had been simple.  Keep a clear route for the western evacuees and prevent the locals from mobbing the evacuation transports as the sounds of gunfire and explosions came nearer.  They’d held back old men and women, terrified children, mothers pleading with them to at least take their babies. Men who had served in some of the harshest combat situations on the planet wept for days afterwards.

He had seen her across the chaos, through the archway of the convent forecourt.  The nuns had tacked a sheet with a hastily painted red cross onto an old truck and she was helping them load it with toddlers and infants.  Somehow, he had made it across the crowds and reached her; the look of hope in her eyes fading when she realised he had just come for her, to offer her a space in the transport. 

Every detail was clear in his mind’s eye.  Standing there on the back of the truck in jeans and a white blouse, long ash-blonde hair tied back with a black velvet ribbon, she was out of place; like she should have been shopping in Paris or drinking wine with friends outside a smart London café.  Not here in the burning capital of a country descending into massacre.  The way she looked at him, she knew she was doomed; her, those frightened old nuns clutching onto their rosaries and the wide-eyed children too terrified for tears.

“She just looked at me Doc, real sad, and said ‘I must help them’”

Clint was shaking so much he had to hold his glass with both hands in order to drink.  Ainsley felt his own shock fading.  The pain remained. sharp and jagged but with a strange sense of closure, hearing the details of his sister’s last days, doing what she believed was right even if it meant giving up the chance of her own escape.  He could tell what the man beside him was thinking, knew the words before they came out.

“I shoulda done something, Doc.  I coulda grabbed her and thrown her on that transport.”

Clint’s face was full of grief and he broke down into tears again.

“I shoulda tried to save her for you.”

They held each other for a long time, the doctor and the archer. At last Ainsley spoke, topping their glasses up with more of Tony’s bourbon.

“Throw Izzie anywhere?” he gave a short laugh, remembering her courage and fire “She would have kicked you in the balls, hard, and climbed right back on that truck.  I’m the one that should’ve been there…”

He had meant to arrive the weekend before, flying to Kintenge from Vienna and then travelling with her to Ethiopia to visit the rock churches at Lalibela, but there was a concert in Salzburg.  Martha Argerich playing a new arrangement of the Chopin Nocturnes, absolutely unmissable, so he had arranged to take a later, midweek, flight.  An hour before landing the plane was diverted to Nairobi; frantic checking of cell-phones telling the passengers of the horrors unfolding on the ground below.

“If I hadn’t been so bloody pissy about that concert I would have been there.  We could have got out together.”

Clint shook his head.

“Nah, Doc.  I know what you’re like.  You woulda been alongside her on that truck, smacking me in the nuts.”

Ainsley let out a long sigh

“At least I would have been with her…  I remember waking up in that ghastly hotel room in Nairobi with a sudden, horrible, feeling; as if half of me had been ripped away.  They didn’t find her remains for another two weeks but from that point onwards I knew my Izzie was dead…”

The elevator doors opened and Natasha came in, cautiously sensing the atmosphere of the room.  Bruce was behind her, turning his glasses nervously in his hands.

“Okay” She said slowly “would someone like to give me an idea of what’s happened here?”

“We bumped into Steve” explained Bruce “He said he’d caused a bit of trouble, upset you both”

Clint ran his hand over his face, explanations were one thing he didn’t want to bother with right now.

“Look guys, Steve pushed the ‘let’s share happy childhood memories’ routine too far and it’s brought up some seriously bad stuff that Ainsley and I have to deal with”

He looked at them both with a pleading expression

“If you want to hang here we can go downstairs but we could really do with a bit of alone time right now.”

Natasha looked as if she wanted to say something but changed her mind.  She turned to Bruce

“Let’s give them some space” She could feel Banner’s anxiety like a physical force.  The constant effort of the scientist’s hard-won control over the beast caused him to instinctively shy away from personal conflict.  It wasn’t the big crises that worried him these days, rather the possibility of all the little things piling up until the pressure was too much to bear.

As the elevator doors closed behind them she reached out and lightly took the older man’s hand.  Bruce glanced at her with an expression of surprise but slowly curled his fingers around hers.

Clint exhaled slowly and poured them both some more bourbon.  They had almost finished the bottle but screw that.  Tony must have caseloads of it downstairs.  He handed Ainsley a glass, the young doctor looked drained and empty.  In his guts the archer knew the night was not over but they could rest from speaking for a while.

“C’mon, Doc.  I’m taking you to bed.”

He hadn’t been thinking about sex, just going somewhere safe and private, but the need for physical release of the evening’s stress took over even as they stumbled through the door.  Embracing hungrily, tugging at each other’s clothes.  Clint pulling of the doctor’s shirt, Ainsley grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him hard as they fell onto the bed

“I need you so much right now!”

It was different without Thor, even when not joining in he had always been there watching his lover and friend enjoy each other.  With the Asgardian present it could feel like Clint was trying to prove himself; as if being assessed for technique, form and endurance. Now with just the two of them in the big bed, he was tender, sensual, almost shy at first

Not as tall or muscular as Thor or Steve, Clint was still a physically impressive figure in his own right. Lean and hard, patterned with scars of combats past; the wide chest and shoulders of a bowman tapering to a trim waist and long powerful legs.

He felt Ainsley’s smooth hands tracing the lines of muscle and ridges of scar tissue, down towards the sensitive small of his back as he moved slowly and rhythmically, breathing shallow and fast as the doctor’s exploring fingers sent shivers running over his skin

Ainsley gasped as bigger man shifted position, falling back onto his heels and lifting the slim young doctor up to straddle his lap, allowing Hawkeye to bring him to orgasm with fluid, skilful movements of his hand; the thrust of the archer’s hips faster and harder as he approached his own climax.  When he finally came it was with a series of soft, groaning, sighs as they collapsed onto the sheets, tangled in each other’s arms.

They lay side by side for a long time.  Clint’s head rested on Ainsley’s chest and the doctor softly stroked his hair and face

_Mom used to stroke my head like this_. 

It was one of the few good things he could recall, those brief periods when she wasn’t drunk, or ornery, and remembered the two young sons she was supposed to care for.

“My folks died when I was just a kid” He spoke hesitantly and glanced up, unsure whether he should continue.  Ainsley kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry; and I’m ok if you want to talk about it” Clint settled his head back down and wrapped his arms around his companion’s waist.

“Don’t be sorry, I wasn’t.  They were mean drunks.” He spoke in short, blunt words about his parents.  Dad, hard and brutal, who taught his sons by way of savage beatings for any fault.  If he was deep enough in the bottle, a tap left running or an unflushed toilet would have them hurting for days.  Mom too busy sucking on her own whiskey tit to care.  Just happy the fists weren’t aimed her way.

“One night they were driving home drunk and went bang under an 18-Wheeler coming the other way.  Smeared all across the highway. I was 8 and Barney was 10”

Aunt Adie, Mom’s sister, she was nice.  She woulda taken Barney and him in, but she was over in Nevada raising three of her own kids on a waitress’s salary and Uncle Dom’s disability. She didn’t have the money, space or time so it was off to the County orphanage.  Only change there was the beatings came from the other kids.  He and Barney learned to fight back and to fight well. One night Barney caught one of the bigger kids trying to do ‘stuff’ to Clint in the bathroom.  Barney had smashed the boy’s face into a mess of blood and broken teeth.  He grabbed his brother’s hand and ran off into the night with him.

The Carnival people had taken them in, fed them and given them a warm clean bed for the night.  He remembered lying awake, listening to them to the adults outside arguing in hushed tones about what to do with them.  Times may have moved on but the old Carney custom of giving refuge hadn’t much changed.  The next few years were good ones.  Clint, leaner and quicker, was taken on as an apprentice to Trickshot; the archer and acrobat with the Robin Hood act.  Barney had gone under the wing of the Swordsman, knife thrower and sword swallower extraordinaire. 

Travelling from town to town, honing their skills, growing in size and strength, the boys were part of a tribe with a simple rule ‘Look after your own’

When he was 16, Clint found out the Swordsman was stealing the Carnival’s funds, fixing the books to disguise his embezzlement.  He confided in Barney and they arranged to meet up with Trick and the others to tell them the truth.

Barney had warned his mentor; the Swordsman was waiting for him instead, saying hello with a baseball bat to the gut.  The teenager was beaten near to death by the man he had called “Uncle Jake”, while his big brother stood by and watched.  Didn’t lift a finger or say a word, even as Clint screamed and begged him to make it stop.

Clint sat up and ran both hands through his unruly thatch of light brown hair.  Ainsley had got up and was fetching them a couple of beers. 

“Aww crap, Doc!” he gasped “Must sound like I’m trying to play a game of ‘Who had the worst shit growing up?’” Ainsley handed him a beer and sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his shoulder.

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve both had more than either of us deserve” he observed with a dry smile. 

“I woke up in a ditch somewhere, they must of put me in one of the trucks and dumped me.  Never knew what they told the other Carneys. Never saw any of them again.” 

He took a long drink, feeling it sharp and cold at the back of his throat.  He’d lain in the ditch for a couple of days, slowly dying of thirst and exposure, until a couple of hunters found him, took him to the local hospital.  He’d known what it meant if he stayed there; back into the institutions – juvenile home for sure; no foster home would be keen to take a damaged, half-feral, boy his age. 

Soon as he was able he sneaked out while the nurse was dozing; broke into a hunting goods store to get a couple of good bows and a supply of arrows.  The next few months he was on own, moving from squat to squat; living off thieving, drug dealing, even a bit of hustling when he was really broke.  Making contacts but never friends.  Keeping his distance, afraid of another betrayal.

The man in the suit had offered him a ‘proposition’.  He looked official but didn’t smell of cop.  The boy was used to ‘propositions’; they usually meant a couple of hundred bucks and a sore ass for a day or two.  Instead the man had taken him to a diner, bought him the first hot meal he’d eaten in a week or more. 

The boy wolfed down tacos and coke while the man talked about the organisation he belonged to, how it was interested in people with ‘unique skill sets’.  Whatever the fuck that meant.  Seemed that high wire robberies committed by a teenager with a bow and arrow had caught some folks’ attention.

The choice came when the waitress brought the check.  He could leave with the man and learn how to develop his skills in the service of something bigger, or he could walk out on his own into the arms of the cops in the car outside.  As choices went it sucked, but he went with the one that didn’t seem like it would involve spending the next 15 to 20 doing ‘favours’ for smokes.

Clint Barton left the diner alongside Agent Phil Coulson

“Phil sorta mentored me through the Academy, kept me out of trouble, got me in tight with Fury.  Took me a long time to trust ‘em, but they came through for me.  Phil was my first S.O. and Fury was his.”

He looked up, his eyes dry but full of sadness.

“Day doesn’t go by without me wishing he was still around.”

Ainsley settled down beside him and pulled the covers over them, drawing the bigger man into an embrace. 

“We never stop missing those we truly love, just as we never stop loving them.  If their memory wasn’t so precious, we couldn’t endure the pain” His voice was drowsy.  Both men were drained to the point of exhaustion and sleep was creeping up.  Clint nodded slightly and kissed him. 

“So, you’re Catholic, right?”  The question came as a surprise to Ainsley

“Not particularly observant but yes, why?”

Clint chuckled

“Just wondering what the penance is for having sex with a heathen God?”

Ainsley laughed and pulled him in close, whispering in his ear

“After-dinner conversation with Steve Rogers.”

###

The view from the Penthouse took a lot of beating, Steve thought.  The only better vantage point was the bridge of a helicarrier but the coffee wasn’t as good there.  He drained his second mugful and sighed.  He’d wrecked three punchbags since last night, taking his anger out on canvas and stuffing.

The ‘wasn’t my fault’ routine had been first port of call.  No way he could have known about the tragedies that destroyed the Kerr family.  But Dr Kerr had always been emphatic about redirecting the conversation when he’d asked before, in that polite British way which really meant ‘shut up’.

“Nice boys don’t keep asking” Mama had said when he’d been looking for a second portion of something or trying to get some treat they couldn’t afford, but this time he’d just kept pushing even though Barton had warned him off twice and Dr Kerr was looking like he wanted to be somewhere else.

Sure, he hadn’t liked the way Barton spoke to him; that savage, obscene dismissal, but he’d maybe deserved it, what with Dr Kerr being so upset and all, crying over the twin sister he’d lost.  He’d looked up ‘Bafandi’ on the computer, read the SHIELD files about what happened there. Stuff as bad as the Nazis in Lidice or Oradour-sur-Glane. Saw that Barton had been on the ground, seen it first-hand.  Understood his reaction.

There was a noise behind him, someone yawning and scratching; slopping coffee and sugar into a mug.  He waited until the slurping finished and heard the relieved gasp before turning around.  Barton was leaning against the worktop in a threadbare T Shirt and boxers that had definitely seen better days.

The two men stared at each other across the room, then both tried to speak at once; a comic moment that lifted some of the tension.

Steve jumped straight in

“I shouldn’t have opened my big fat mouth.  You and Dr Kerr made it plain enough you didn’t want to talk about your families and you gave me fair warning to back down.  I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention and I’m sorry for upsetting you both the way I did.  I guess I spoiled everyone’s evening.  Probably owe Tasha and Dr Banner an apology too, worrying them like that.”

Clint smiled.  He’d been squaring up for a shouting match but, colossal, self-righteous pain in the ass or not, the guy was a Boy Scout through and through.  He scratched the back of his head and started fixing a fresh pot of coffee. 

“I guess I owe you an apology as well, Cap.  I was pretty harsh with you last night, can’t say I didn’t mean every word at the time though”

He was even using a new filter paper the way Cap preferred, even though Clint thought it spoiled the taste.

“I get where you’re going with this thing of living together as a team, able to function as a unit at a moment’s notice an’ all that.  I think it’s a good idea, really, but we’ve all got our own stuff going on as well and some of us aren’t ready to share it all up-front.  You want sugar?”

“Just black and strong” Barton’s idea of coffee was something akin to hot syrup.  Steve had joined him in the kitchen area, looking through cupboards “Any idea where Dr Kerr keeps his tea?  If I can remember how to do it, I’ll make him a cup”

“Even if it tastes like ditch water, he’ll drink it to be polite!” The guy was manning up and doing his best, time to throw him a line.

“Look, anytime you want to come out with your happy Brooklyn memories that’s great, I’m sure we’d all love to hear them, just give the rest of us a bit of wiggle room when it comes to the personal stuff.  So, what was it; stickball at recess and cherry sodas for 5 cents?”

Steve swallowed a mouthful of coffee and grinned

“I got beat up every day and twice on Sundays”

Clint laughed. 

“C’mon, Cap! Let’s go take Doc his tea so you can say your piece and he can be all ‘Oh my dear chap, think nothing of it! All forgotten already!”

His impression of Dr Kerr was even worse than Natasha trying to do Thor.  Steve clapped him in the shoulder with a broad smile.

“Sure thing! And Barton? Please put on some pants.”


	7. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline: Friday 12th July 2013. One week after the events of Getting to Know You
> 
> Thor’s return to the penthouse pushes Clint Barton into a potentially dangerous place forcing Natasha to intervene.  
> Ainsley confesses to Thor how his relationship with Clint has changed and Thor proves he is mighty in more ways than one.

“If I have to get Jarvis to override the locking system it is not going to end well for you!”

Hawkeye opened the door.  Even with a good dose of Mr Jack Daniel’s finest sloshing around his system, he knew better than to ignore Tasha when she sounded like that.

“Hey Tash, come…   …in” He slurred as she shouldered past him and sat down.

The spy glared at her friend as he stumbled back over to the couch.  Red eyed, unshaven, unshowered by the smell of it, and still in the ratty old T-shirt and boxers he used as sleepwear.  He hadn’t looked as pathetic this for a while. 

“Thought you were out with the others?” he asked, refilling his glass.

Thor had arrived back that afternoon, sun-browned and exuberant, having taken some of the senior Academy cadets through a week-long wilderness survival course.  As a welcome home, Tony had booked a table at a restaurant in the Village, famous for its Battle of Steak challenge; ‘How many 16 ounce steaks can YOU eat in an hour?  Each week’s winner eats free!!!’.

Thor and Steve were being obnoxiously Alpha Male about it, of course.  The largely friendly rivalry between the two big men was a source of constant entertainment for the team and the rest of them were looking forward to the show.  Tony just wanted to see how long it took before the manager started to cry.

Natasha poured herself a glass and sat back, crossing her legs. Even Bruce had been prised out of the research labs to join the party.  Much though she loved her friend; surely he could have chosen to turn the crazy on tomorrow?

“I know better than to leave you alone when you’re in this state” She knocked back the bourbon and poured herself another shot. “Now talk, and this had better be good.  Thanks to you I’m missing Thor and Steve go toe-to-toe in an all-you-can-eat steakfight.”

Clint sighed and stared down into the glass in his hand; trying to work out what was worse, being a sad drunk or worrying Tasha like this.  He swallowed and grimaced as the liquor burned down into his stomach

“Just Dumbass Barton trying to drink his way into fucking up a sweet situation.  You know, the usual…”

He grinned at her, but Tasha’s expression remained fixed in a place between concern and anger.  He’d only been on the receiving end of that look twice before.  There would be no joking his way out of this one.  He filled his glass but left it sitting on the table

“It’s just…” he paused trying to get the words together “It’s been really special this week with Doc.  I don’t mean the sex, but the time we’ve spent together, connecting with each other.  Sharing stuff about his sister…. About what we’ve been through.  I know you and I have talked but this felt, I dunno, different, intimate…”

They’d spent the whole week in each other’s company, Doc opening up about the death of his family, the devastation he’d experienced after the murder of his sister and the intense pain and grief he felt daily; Clint speaking of about his own sense of guilt and betrayal, the nagging doubt of his own abilities which pushed him to take more and more risks to prove himself to the others.  It had been four years since he’d gone to bed every night and wrapped his arms around someone who genuinely cared about him and what he needed. 

He’d told himself he’d be fine when the Big Blond got home.  It would be all smiles, hugs and back to the usual routine; then he’d woken up that morning, looked at Doc still curled up asleep beside him, and realised with a sick twist in his gut that he’d be alone again tonight. 

Natasha groaned inwardly. She had been worrying about this happening since Clint first got involved in Thor and Ainsley’s relationship, especially this past week when it had just been him and the doctor bonding together over their shared pain.  The assassin’s last three relationships hadn’t lasted this long and she could see how much he was investing with it.

She’d felt a bit sick inside when she heard Clint talking about Bafandi again, and realised that the beautiful Englishwoman he’d felt so guilty about leaving to die was Ainsley’s sister.  More than Phil’s death, that was the point it had really started to go bad for him.  Despite his repeated insistence he was ‘fine’, she knew that wasn’t the case.  None of the men who had seen the killing grounds had ever been ‘fine’ again.  Since then it had been a rough ride for the archer; the divorce, losing his hearing, Loki raping his mind, Phil’s death…

“…Now Thor’s home and I’m sittin’ here feeling like the substitute fuck back in the dugout.”

He threw back the shot and reached for the bottle. Natasha grabbed it out of his hand and stoppered it firmly

“That’s the bourbon talking” she had crossed the line into anger now. “You really believe that’s how Thor treats you? Or Ainsley? Especially after this week? You think that little of them?”

She got up and put the bottle on the far side of the room then turned to face him, folding her arms, keeping her voice hard.  Clint looked miserable, like he was about to start crying, but she knew she couldn’t afford to go easy.  This kind of self-pity took him into dangerous places and sweet talking wouldn’t help.

“So, are you in love with Ainsley?  Or do you just think you are because of what you’ve both experienced, because he’s being good to you, like he always is?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.  There had been a few days, back when they first knew each other, that a deepening friendship had been confused with love.  One awkward, abortive, night in a Buenos Aires hotel room had disabused them both of that belief; but that had just been one night that never had the chance to get beyond a little embarrassing foreplay, not three weeks of increasingly intense connection.

He looked at her, weary and drained, hands limp in his lap

“I dunno, Tash.  I just never felt this way with a guy before…”

That was true; Clint’s occasional encounters with other men had been casual affairs, rarely going beyond a couple of quick fucks.  Natasha had never seen him get emotionally involved before, if so certainly not to this extent, and couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad sign that he felt so strongly about the young doctor.

“So, what then?” She brandished the bottle at him; trying not to shout but hearing the hoarse, anxious, edge in her voice “You drain this, go beat on his door at 3 in the morning; he tells you to go away, you turn into a jerk and next thing we’re trying to stop Thor smearing you across the wall with his fists?  It’ll be just like before and this time Fury’s not going to cut you any slack…”

She bit her lip to stop what she was going to say next but it echoed through her head

_…and Phil’s not here to bail you out!_

Tasha was starting to freak, that was what got to him, realising just how near the danger zone he must be for her to get like this.  Clint raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

“Look, I’m not gonna do anything stupid.  I’m just having a feeling sorry for myself kinda day and maybe taking it a bit too far.  This isn’t gonna be like me yelling and throwing garbage at Laura’s front door until they haul me off.”

He swallowed hard, remembering…

…Perhaps he and Laura should never have got married.  She had no connection with SHIELD, just a nice Montana country girl he thought he could share a bit of normality with. No understanding of the stress placed on field agents, especially lone operators like him.  Maybe if they’d been together longer they might have stood a chance, but it had only been four months after he nervously stood beside Phil in that little Methodist country chapel waiting for the organ music to start, that his routine training mission has been re-assigned to the evacuation of foreigners from the violence in Bafandi. 

The gaunt, haunted man who returned six weeks later had seen the fountain basins in Cathedral Square overflowing with bodies, stacks of severed heads and hands in the foyer of the Kintenge Hilton; the young woman who’d refused the chance of escape so she could try to save others.

Laura didn’t deserve, and couldn’t cope with, the drinking, the violent mood swings, finding him every morning passed out in front of the TV with an empty bottle in his lap.  He’d never hit her, thank God, never turned into Dad, but she saw enough of the Barton Crazy to get her scared that he might.  Enough that one night he’d come home to find his stuff waiting for him on the front step and her telling him to get out and stay away.

He’d gone on a three-day drunk; turning up outside on the third night after the bars had closed, crying and begging her to take him back.  When she’d threatened to call the cops, he’d started smashing at the front door with the trashcan; screaming at her to let him in.  Lucky for him she called Phil, not the cops, so it was his buddies who’d dragged him kicking, punching, biting and cursing, into the back of a van.  A few of them had ended up with black eyes and broken noses.

When he’d sobered up in a detention cell, trying to figure out why he was there and what had happened, Phil had come in and spelled out the details in that precise, neutral way of his.  Clint couldn’t tell if he was disgusted with him or just plain disappointed and that was the worst of it; realising how badly he’d let down the man who’d given him a chance.

Coulson had backed him up at the disciplinary though; pointing out his service record to date, the strain he’d been under, and Laura didn’t want to make a formal complaint.  She didn’t hate him, maybe she still cared for the Clint Barton she’d married, she just wanted this fucked up stranger out of her life.

The result was 6 months’ loss of seniority; wages and pension garnished and two months’ punishment detail.  That had meant days doing mindless data entry in some SHIELD admin warehouse somewhere in Virginia; evenings and weekends in the Detention Block and mandatory psych evaluations every week.  He’d signed the divorce papers she sent without bothering to read them. 

By the time he was out and back on active duty, Laura had already moved away.  She’d got married again since, to a dull, pleasant, reliable guy who sold farm equipment.  She hadn’t been able to make it to Phil’s funeral, her first kid was about to be born, but she sent him a long, kind, letter that he still kept in the bedside drawer beneath his gun. 

Fury had stuck his neck out and put him back onto his old assignments with the warning that he’d used up his last favour and he’d “…better get his ass out there racking up some fresh ones”.  Tasha had just asked ‘Are we done with all this nonsense?’…

The look he gave her was pleading, almost helpless. 

“Tash, I promise you, it’s not like before.  I wouldn’t put you through that again…”

His shoulders slumped.  He looked worn out, defeated.  Natasha could feel her anger softening, aware of the unfamiliar territory her friend was negotiating and the hard-buried emotions he was being forced to deal with.

“I dunno if I’m in love with Doc or if it’s just the hurt in me calling to the hurt in him.  Yeah, I like him a lot and he likes me for sure but he loves Thor, loves him so bad it hurts to see it, and poor old Dumbass Barton don’t stand a chance against that….”

Natasha shook her head with an exasperated sigh.  Uncorking the bottle, she walked back over to the couch and poured them both another shot.

“Dumbass Barton doesn’t; which is why Clint Barton has to knock him on the head and get back into the driving seat.”

She gave him a tap on the cheek, halfway between a pat and a slap

“I don’t understand what’s going on between the three of you” Her laugh was short and bitter “but then I’m not qualified to judge on what makes a healthy relationship.  What I see is how close the three of you have become; how Thor and Ainsley make space for you when you need it, not just when they want it.  I’ve seen the way Ainsley’s been here for you these last few days when he could easily have just curled up around his own pain.  I think he genuinely cares for you a lot…”

She took a slug straight from the bottle

_Screw this! I need to be drunk as well_

“…but you’re right, he and Thor love each other so passionately it’s frightening.  You have to accept that will always be the case no matter how close the two of you become.”

Clint pushed the shot away from him across the table and looked at her with a sheepish smile

“So, what your telling me is I’m acting like a spoiled asshole just because Doc is gonna need a little alone time with Thor now that the Big Blond’s home?”

“That’s an accurate summary of the situation!” she admitted, smiling at him for the first time

“Clint, you’ve started dealing with some big emotional issues the last few days; things you’ve had bottled up inside you for far too long.  That’s going to take a lot of working through.  If you really think you love Ainsley, then you should trust and respect him enough to believe that he’s not going to let you cope with that alone, or that Thor’s going to resent him or you for it.  If they do, I’ll be having words…” 

Clint put his arms around her and hugged her close. 

“Tash, what’ve I done to deserve a friend like you?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Not killing me was a good start.  Now we’re going to sit here and talk nicely over a couple more drinks, until I’m sure you’re not going to be an idiot, then at 8am sharp tomorrow I’m dragging you down to the gym and beating what’s left of the self-pity out of you.  Deal?”

They clinked glasses

“Deal” That familiar Barton smirk was back on his face “Hell, all I wanted was to fuck the God of Thunder and his hot British boyfriend.  How’d it get so complicated?

She shrugged, remembering words spoken to her in a Calcutta slum

“We don’t always get what we want.”

“So, how’s it going with Bruce?”

The look on her face was priceless. 

“Hey, you’re not the only one ‘round here who notices things.  You pair’ve been giving each other the glad eye for weeks, and I’ve seen you slipping up to the lab with a bottle of Ainsley’s fancy wine more than once”

She smiled and put down her glass.

“We’ve been taking it slow; Bruce is used to being pretty closed off, for obvious reasons, and I’m not exactly comfortable making romantic connections myself, but things are ‘going’ as you put it.”

His smile had turned into a broad, leering, grin

“Tash, I gotta ask…”

“Don’t you dare….”

“…Hulk smash? OW!”

####

“Honestly, Snuggie-Bear, I don’t know where you put it all.  Twelve steaks! Have Asgardians got a second stomach or something?”

Ainsley patted Thor’s hard, flat, belly and stood on tip-toe to kiss him as he handed him his drink.  The big warrior was arranging the rewards of his victory on a shelf beside the couch; a gold-coloured plastic trophy in the shape of a T-Bone steak, a framed certificate and a photo of him cheesing for the camera while a pale and sweaty looking Steve Rogers leaned on his shoulder.

“Have you not been told?” Thor asked with a look of mock-surprise “I am Mighty!”

“You certainly are” laughed his lover, sprawling back on the couch and shifting over to give space for Thor as he threw himself down beside him.

“What is this drink called? It is very good”

“A Manhattan, entirely appropriate and excellent for after dinner” Ainsley took an appreciative sip.  Director Fury had shown him how to mix a perfect one during his visit to the Triskelion to discuss the Academy Project.

_That man is full of the most surprising secrets._

He rubbed his own stomach

“One steak was more than enough for me, and I’m going to be in the gym all weekend to make up for that dessert.” He took another drink and smiled “I really thought Steve was going to be sick on the way back. We may have found his Kryptonite.”

He looked over at Thor and saw the Asgardian was staring at the far wall with a puzzled look.

“Why did Clint not want to come out with us tonight?  He said he was unwell but I do not believe that.  He looked sad and I think he had been drinking.”

He turned a questioning gaze on the doctor.  Clint had hardly shown himself all day, and Thor clearly felt hurt he hadn’t joined them at the restaurant.  Ainsley sighed.  This was a conversation he’d been hoping to avoid until tomorrow, Thor would not be in a mood to accept evasive answers. 

_If Oscar Wilde didn’t say ‘too much honesty after dinner is bad for the digestion’ he probably should have_

“I’ve told you about my sister, Izzie, and what happened to her?”

Thor nodded.  They had spoken of her in London.  A healer like Ainsley, who cared for children.  A noble maiden of the House of Kerr, full of grace and beauty, who had been slain in a distant war while trying to save the children she tended. 

“Clint met her, perhaps only a day or so before she was killed” He refilled their glasses, remembering the distress on the archer’s face.

“He already felt guilty about not saving her, finding out she was my sister was incredibly painful for him.  It brought up some very difficult memories for both us”

Thor took the proffered drink, set it down on the table and kissed the doctor’s hand, holding it against his face

“Your sister was a lady of compassion and great courage, like my mother.  You should speak of her more; it might not diminish your grief but it may torment you less.  If Clint encountered her and also mourns her death it could be of great help for you both to speak of this together”

Ainsley looked down at his lover and kissed his forehead.  He might not always be the smartest and his words sometimes clumsy but the Asgardian was far from stupid. 

“I know, and this week’s been a hard reminder that I’ve been keeping too much of that pain penned up inside.  I’m hoping Clint is realising that as well, he’s carrying a great deal of hurt with him.”

“He spoke of his past?” Thor asked.  He could sense the depth of darkness behind Hawkeye’s sometimes manic levity, but the archer had shared little of his history before becoming a part of the Avengers.

“Some of it” Ainsley admitted “I’ve no doubt he’ll share it with you in time”

“I understand.  You are bound by the Oath of a Healer.”

Here, as on Asgard, it was part of the burden of such to hold fast the secrets entrusted to them. Thor thought for a moment on how to word his next question.  He disliked twisted speech and had no skill for it, but on Midgard it was not seen as proper to address certain subjects directly

“You and Clint; you were often… together?”

This time the questioning look was unequivocal.  Ainsley sat back down on the couch beside him.

“We’ve slept together every night this week” he glanced nervously over at Thor “Does that bother you?”

Previously it had always been the three of them and there had never been the need to speak about limits or boundaries.  Even with Thor going away, Ainsley had intended to spend most of his evenings catching up with work and reading; had been privately looking forward to a few night’s uninterrupted sleep.  Other than the nights they had shared with Clint, their relationship was strictly monogamous by mutual agreement. 

He couldn’t be sure Thor wouldn’t see the nights he had spent alone with Clint as some form of betrayal or what his reaction would be if he did.

Thor mulled this information over.  Part of him was very unhappy.  He disliked the idea of his lover being with Clint in his absence, even though he was the friend who shared their bed; but to be fair to them it was not a thing that had been forbidden.  Having discovered a shared pain, it was perhaps natural that Clint and Ainsley would have sought comfort in each other.  He knew now why the archer had been so wary of his presence today.

“So, Clint is sad because I have returned and you are with me tonight?”

Ainsley took a long drink of his Manhattan

“That’s a part of it, yes.  We’ve become very close and I think he’s afraid of what that might change between us.”  He glanced over at Thor again, trying to judge the Asgardian’s mood “I think perhaps I am as well.”

_Well he’s not reaching for Mjolnir yet, maybe we might just get through the night without Tony having to suit up_

Thor was silent for a while, deep in thought, when he spoke it was careful and measured

“Are you sad that you are with me and not with him?” there was a painful pause “Do you still love me?”

Ainsley turned Thor’s face to him and kissed him on the lips, seeing the question still there in his eyes, along with his fear of what the answer might be.

“Thor; I love you, and I’m happy to be with you.  I always will be.  I’m so sorry if I’ve made you feel you had to ask that.”

Thor smiled with relief and affection, pulling Ainsley close and kissing him deeply.  He had not wished to ask that question but he was glad of the answer and his heart was now clear.  Once before he had faced a great test here in Midgard, now another lay before him. This was perhaps bound up with the Blood-Debt that tied him to Hawkeye

When their lips parted, Thor spoke softly

“But you are sad that Clint is unhappy?”

Ainsley nestled in under the curve of the Asgardian’s strong arm

“Of course, he’s our friend and we both care for him deeply.  Clint’s on the edge of a very dark place right now and I’m afraid that it won’t take much to push him over that edge into who knows what”

Thor finished his drink.  These Manhattans were good.  He must get Ainsley to make them more often.  Now he understood what he must do.  He looked down at the young man beside him

“It will not trouble me if you wish to spend more time alone with Clint, even when I am here.  It will not diminish the love between us.  I also feel the darkness of which you speak and fear where it may lead him if left unchecked.   There is a Fate that has been working between us since first we met; your shared pain tells me Clint is a part of that Fate and it must be worked through to its end.”

He grinned at the look of astonishment Ainsley gave him.  It was not often he could surprise his clever lover.  This was better than beating Steve at Steak

“Besides, it will make it even more special for us when we are alone together, or together with Clint.  It will show I am not taking you for granted.”

He had heard those words on one of the television programmes that Tasha liked to watch when she thought no-one else was around.  The ones where women sat on couches and talked.  She had explained what they meant, then made him swear an oath never to tell the others of her watching these programmes on pain of waking up in Traction.  It must be some solemn Midgardian Women’s Mystery she had shared with him.  He did not know where Traction was, but from Tasha’s voice it did not sound like a good place.

Ainsley sat astride Thor’s lap, took his face in his hands and kissed him for a long time.

“You have the warmest, most generous heart of any man I have ever met, and I can’t believe how much I love you.” His voice was rich with tender amazement.  Taking the empty glass from his lover’s hand he set it on the table and began to undo the buttons of Thor’s shirt with a sly smile

“Time for you to remind me just how Mighty you are…”

###

Clint threw the empty bottle into the trash.  Tasha had left a few minutes ago, finally convinced that he would just go to bed and not get up to any tricks. He stood swaying for a moment or two, running his fingers through his hair

_Should really drink some water, gonna pay for this tomorrow_

Instead he stumbled over and collapsed onto the bed.  Pulling one of the pillows towards him he smelled it; the fabric still held traces of Ainsley’s cologne.  Hugging it tight to his chest, he curled up and fell asleep.


	8. If You Go Into The Woods Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline. End of July 2013  
> The re-emergence of an evil from the past begins a chain of events that may have dark consequences for the team when Thor and Clint are attacked and Clint goes missing.  
> Thor questions his motivations and Clint shows what he’s made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homo-eroticism, strong language, violence, torture and recreational drug use; just another average weekend for the Avengers.

Thor broke the surface in a shower of spray, shaking the water from his hair like a dog as he waded towards the rock where Hawkeye lay sunning himself

_Damn! He should be doing shampoo commercials. ‘Asgard by L’Oréal; for a shine the Gods will envy’_

The pool had been a real find at the end of their first day’s hiking; fed by a mountain waterfall, deep, cool and clear in the bottom of a narrow valley.  They’d made camp on the ridge above and spent the morning splashing around.  The day was fiercely hot, even under the shade of the trees, and showed no sign of letting up.  Neither of them had much inclination to pack up and move on, instead enjoying the heat of the sun on their naked bodies and the refreshing chill of the water.

Clint had stuck to mucking about in the shallows.  He’d never been that great a swimmer and even though his hearing aids were supposed to be waterproof it was a risk he didn’t like to take.  Sneaking them out at night and in again first thing in the morning without Thor noticing was a big enough challenge. 

At times, he thought it would probably be easier just to come out and tell the Big Blond; but he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets from the team.  Maybe because of growing up with Loki, anything that smacked of deceit towards his friends made Thor miserable.  He’d had a difficult enough time with the surprise party they’d thrown for Steve’s birthday.  The archer laughed quietly to himself.  Doc was going to have great fun trying to explain Secret Santa.

Thor spread himself out on the warm rock beside his friend, letting the noonday sun dry him naturally. 

“You should come in and swim properly” He said, rubbing the archer’s thigh “The water is very pure.  You can see fish at the bottom.”

“Nah, it’s fine!  I’m not big on swimming” He grinned “Doggy-paddle is about my limit. I’ll stick to working on my all-over tan”. 

Thor ran an appraising eye over the man lying beside him

“You are looking very brown.  It is attractive”

His hand was still massaging its way up the inside of Clint’s leg.  That, combined with the heat of the sun on his body and the proximity of the big blond warrior was having an obvious effect.  Thor brushed his hair back and leaned over the archer, smiling.

“I do not think it has ever just been you and me together” He bent down and began kissing his chest.  Clint gave a slight grunt as Thor’s long, agile, fingers wrapped around their target and began stroking.

As his mouth began to move further down, Clint ran his hand through the warrior’s wet hair

“I didn’t bother to pack any lube, and you know I kinda prefer to be in the driving seat…”

The Asgardian looked up and grinned, then licked the small scar just beneath his friend’s navel

“There are still many other things we can do”

Clint moaned as Thor’s warm mouth closed around him.

“Hell yeah, Blondie!”

###

This was turning out to be a great idea.  At first Clint hadn’t been keen on the thought of a long weekend in the mountains with Thor, but he figured he owed the Big Blond for bailing on his welcome home party and for being so cool about the time he was spending with Doc. 

He’d only ever been camping once as a kid.  Uncle Dom had taken him, Barney and their cousins up into the woods for a week one summer.  It was one of the few happy times he could remember from back then.  Uncle Dom had been real good at hunting and fishing before he’d had his accident and couldn’t work or walk much anymore. 

The closest he’d come since had been SHIELD wilderness survival training.  That tended to be less marshmallow roasts and more ‘which wriggly, crunchy, bugs are edible?’.  Luckily, dinner this evening was the rabbits Thor had snared; diced and stewed with some foraged wild herbs.

“You can eat all these? Clint had asked as he shredded them into the pot “Don’t want you going full Linda Blair on me.”

Thor’s intolerance to shellfish had been discovered one notorious night out, to the surprise of the team and everyone else within blast radius.  They had never dared venture back to that restaurant since and there was now a slight nervousness about introducing him to any unfamiliar foodstuffs.

Thor laughed.  He had given up trying to understand Clint’s references.  They were usually to do with a film or television programme he liked.  He would remember to ask Ainsley when they got home.

“Dr Banner has done tests.  I can safely eat most of your foods, except for the fish with shells.  And pistachio nuts.”

Bruce had been happy as a pig in shit the day he got Thor into his lab.  He’d been looking for the chance to run any kind of tests since the day he came back from London but the Asgardian didn’t like the idea of being treated as a specimen and it wasn’t wise to push him on the subject.

“Sucks for you, man! Pistachio ice-cream is the best.  Anyhow, smells like dinner’s almost ready.”

The stew was hot and tasty, and there was plenty of beer to wash it down.  Clint drained his second bottle.  This might not be as fancy as the stuff that Doc and Tasha turned out in the kitchen back home but it was good and filling.  Maybe they should take a couple of rabbits home with them and rustle up a pot of stew for the others.  Fresh wild meat always made him a bit ‘frisky’, another beer and he’d see if the Big Blond was up for round two

“So, is this the kinda stuff you’re gonna get up to on those wilderness courses at the Academy?”

The survival exercise Thor lead for some of the senior cadets earlier in the month had been an all-round success.  He’d been asked to do more and there was already a waiting list; a lot of the female cadets seemed particularly eager to sign up.

“Not all of it” grinned Thor, winking at him “But the hunting and woodcraft, yes.  Many of your people do not seem to learn these things in their youth.  It pleases me to be able to teach them.”

He picked a bit of rabbit meat from between his teeth and chewed it thoughtfully.  This was something he wanted to speak about.

“You have many useful skills.  Perhaps you should join me at the Academy to share them.  It would be good to work beside you there as well as in the field”

Clint shook his head

“Thanks for the offer, but teaching’s never been my thing.  Always been more of a stand-alone guy”

Thor glanced up at him.  He must not be too direct or Clint would close himself off.  Ainsley would be better at this than him, but he was already helping Clint with the sadness in his heart.  It would not be fair to place an extra burden on him.

“You do not stand alone; you are with us”

Clint winced at the slight hurt in the Big Blond’s voice.  He hadn’t meant it to sound like that, but the idea of being around Field Ops any more than necessary gave him the shivers.  Only so much cold-shouldering he could deal with in any one day.

“Sorry Blondie, you know that’s not what I meant.  ‘Course I’m part of the team.  Just can’t see myself standing up in front of a bunch of students laying down the facts.”

Thor grinned and squeezed his friend’s shoulder

“That is what Ainsley does.  Can you see me standing like that in the attire of a scholar, saying all those words that only he can pronounce?”

Now that would be a laugh, Thor in collar and tie lecturing on psycho-pseudo-schizo-whatever.  The Asgardian tossed him another beer

“Come with us the next time we go out into the woods.  We can hunt for food together and show the young ones what true warriors can do.”

Clint prised the cap off with his belt-buckle, chuckling

“Now you’re making it sound like fun, Blondie.  That’s just unfair!”

Thor chugged his beer down with a sense of satisfaction.  He had got Clint thinking about it now.  That was a start.  Perhaps when Steve told him about the plan he and Ainsley were working on the archer would become less reticent.  He laid the empty bottle aside and started to pull off his shirt

“I know something else that would be fun”

###

“So, do you think they’ve decided yet?” Tony poured himself another Margarita.  It had been a heavy, humid, day in Manhattan.  At street level it was sticky and unpleasant, but up at the Penthouse there was a light breeze coming in from the sea; perfect for after-dinner drinks on the terrace and a bit of good weed.

“Decided what?” asked Ainsley, accepting the joint that Natasha offered and taking a long hit.  One of the many advantages of working at the Sci Ops Academy was the abundance of excellent grass to be had if you knew the right person.

“Who gets to be Heath and who’s going to be Jake” He laughed at their expressions “Too soon?”

“What are you talking about, Stark?” 

Steve was pointedly downwind of the others, playing checkers with Bruce.  The scientist rarely joined the others in the evening but the Saturday night get together was a bit of a ritual now, besides it was too nice to be stuck indoors.  Thor and Clint had made a good choice in heading to the mountains for a few days, perhaps they all should consider a holiday while the weather was like this.

He smiled at Steve’s mild disdain for the often self-indulgent atmosphere of life in the penthouse.  There was something a bit forced about it, as if the boy from Depression-era Brooklyn felt compelled to express disapproval for the lifestyle of the idle rich even while sharing in most of it.  To be fair the only things he really felt uncomfortable with were the drug use and overt discussions of sexual behaviour, which unfortunately tended to go hand in hand when Tony was in chill-out mood.

Tony took the joint from Ainsley in exchange for the Margarita pitcher

“I’m talking about Goldilocks’ and Pidgeon’s little Brokeback Mountain bonding party.  Do you think they’ll flip a coin and see who gets tails, or will Clint just have to man up and bite the arrow?”

Ainsley laughed, almost overfilling Natasha’s glass.

“Unless they’ve packed a quart of KY and a six-pack of poppers I think they’ll have to keep it to heavy petting for the most part!”

“Guys, is this really appropriate?” Steve sounded annoyed but Bruce was trying hard not to break into the giggles “There’s got to be other things we can talk about”

“Oh, I disagree” declared Tony, waving his glass and dripping Margarita over himself in the process “The great unasked question around here is exactly how this game of Human/Asgardian Tetris works out in practise.  Natasha, I’m sure you’ve wondered as well?”

Natasha was laughing so hard she was in danger of spilling her drink. 

“Don’t bring me in on this, as far as I’m concerned Barton’s sex life should have Level 10 classification!”

Tony started to roll another joint

“Well, Sherlock? Going to spill the beans about who fits into whom?”

Ainsley stood and picked up the almost empty pitcher

“I think we need a refill, and I think Tony needs to ask himself why he’s more interested in what three men do in bed than he is in where to take Pepper for their forthcoming anniversary.”

Tony continued holding forth as Ainsley poured Tequila and Triple Sec into the blender

“Actually, I think we need to be more concerned about what Thor’s intentions really are.  I’ll bet $100 he’s planning to bop Hunger Games on the head then be all ‘He was devoured in battle with a mighty bear.  I gave his remains a warrior’s burial. Now let us feast and compose sagas in his memory!’”

The doctor laughed “I’ll take you up on that.  Thor’s nowhere near that good a liar!”

Thor landing awkwardly on the terrace was a sudden shock to them all; the Asgardian’s face was scraped and bloody and he was having trouble with his shoulder.  His voice was unsteady, as if speaking caused him physical pain.

“We were attacked… I cannot find Clint.”

“You may owe me $100, doctor.” Despite the attempt at levity, Tony’s voice was as shaky as Thor’s.  His eyes were fixed on what he had with him, a projectile weapon of some sort. It’s power cell glowed with a crystalline blue light, unpleasantly familiar to the veterans of the Battle of New York.

###

They had heard sounds nearby just after dinner, enough to make them wary but not cause concern.  It was not impossible that they would run into other hikers or hunters, even this deep into the forest, and they had quickly pulled their clothes back on just in case.  Within moments, however, it became plain to them that the noises were around them; men moving into a pincer formation.  They had placed themselves back to back, Thor with hammer in hand and Clint with bow ready, prepared to challenge any hostility.

Thor had not expected the blast of energy that hit him square in the chest, throwing him through the air.  He did not know how far it had been, but he had felt himself crashing through tree branches and smashing hard into a rock face, knocking the breath out of him and dislocating his shoulder.  Even in battle armour such a blow would have been debilitating.  Forcing his shoulder back into its socket he drew on the training instilled in him since childhood, channelling his pain into the warrior frenzy. He needed nothing so crude as a Beserker Rod to call on the concentrated battle-rage of his ancestors. 

There had been only three men, all armed with similar weapons, and lacking any great skill in their use.  Aware of what to expect he had used Mjolnir to deflect the wild shots aimed at him and dispatch them with speed and ruthlessness, relishing the terror in their faces as the Asgardian’s fury was the last thing they saw.  It was only once the immediate danger had passed he realised he could not hear or see Clint.  He hunted around the campsite with no success, calling his friend’s name until the trees around him shook with the thunder of his voice.

With evening fading towards night he had no choice but to return to the Penthouse and seek the aid of the others. After one last look around he began to spin Mjolnir by its strap, until the momentum of the great hammer carried him up and forward in the direction of New York.

###

Bruce had completed tending to Thor’s injuries by the time he finished speaking.  They were mostly superficial but a couple of his ribs were cracked and his shoulder was sore and swollen.  Even though his superior constitution meant he would be mostly healed in a less than a day, the thought of a weapon being able to injure the mighty warrior like this with a single shot was intimidating and he could feel his hands shaking.  He glanced over at Natasha and Ainsley.  The spy had taken hold of the doctor’s hand and they were both pale.  He knew what all of them were thinking, he was thinking it himself.

_If it could do this to Thor, what’s it done to Clint?_

“Okay” said Tony firmly “Let’s get a location then suit up”

Steve grabbed his arm

“Tony, stop! You’re drunk.  Jarvis?” His voice was steady and authoritative

“Captain Rogers is correct, sir.” Came the response “You have exceeded the capacity for safe operation.  Designated Driver Protocol has been engaged.”

This was a protocol introduced at Pepper’s instigation.  Tony wouldn’t be able to use any of his suits until his alcohol levels were within safe limits

Steve looked around the rest of the team; he shared their fears but the soldier knew how limited their options were

“It’ll be pitch black out before anyone could get there.  We’ll need to get a location and call in to Fury, there’ll be a search and rescue team in place to go into action at first light.  Thor, can you show us roughly on a map where you were when you got attacked?”

“I will try” said the warrior, wincing as Bruce rotated his arm to make sure it was properly back in place “there was a pool between two ridges.  It should not be hard to find.”

Tony turned to Ainsley

“Have you tried his cell phone?”

The doctor looked up, his anxiety for Clint’s safety written large across his face.

“I’ve been speed-dialling for the last few minutes.  It keeps going straight to voicemail”

Tony grimaced, that wasn’t unexpected.  Even with his best efforts the S-Phone had limited coverage in some areas.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.  If it’s not completely pulverised I can try and put a satellite track on it.”

“What about this thing?” asked Bruce “It doesn’t look Chitauri but that’s got to be Tesseract energy powering it.”

It was like a light machine-gun but longer, with a complicated arrangement of metal disks and hoops halfway down.  Where the magazine would normally go was a heavy clear tube, glowing with a cold blue light which seemed to shift and move as they looked at it.  Being in the same room as it gave Steve a sick, heavy, feeling

“That’s a HYDRA weapon” he said flatly “I’ve seen some of them in action before”

He caught the questioning glance from Dr Kerr

Of course, he would never have heard about HYDRA.  That part of WWII history was still under heavy wraps but with this he would need to know.

“I’ll explain to you later.  Right now, we need to focus on location, search and rescue.  I’ll get Director Fury on the line”

Tony glanced at him from the screen where he was already at work

“Um, Ice-Cap?  If you could be a gem and not let Fury know that we have a HYDRA weapon specimen here right now that would be great.  I’d like to find out what this thing does first, not just what SHIELD decides to tell us.”

Steve nodded his agreement.  Tony was right on that call, SHIELD was jealous of its secrets and selective in what it revealed even to the Avengers.  If there were HYDRA weapons still running around out there he wanted to know exactly what they were capable of and what they could do to his team.

Thor swung himself off the gurney

“When I have shown you the location I will go back out there and keep looking for Clint.”

The thought that his friend might be lying out there somewhere, injured and alone in the dark, was tearing him up inside.

“No!” Steve’s voice was sharp and emphatic.  Thor stopped in surprise and glared at the soldier with a hint of anger in his eyes.  He was not used to being commanded in such a fashion.

Everyone else froze, their concern over Hawkeye not forgotten but briefly transcended as their attention focussed on the two big men facing off at each other in the middle of the room.  Conflict between Steve and Tony was so routine it seemed natural as morning coffee but this was something different.  So far Thor had deferred to Steve’s role as team leader, but Steve had never had to enforce that position directly.  What happened next could be critical for all of them.

Steve stepped forward and put his hand on the astonished demi-god’s arm, speaking before Thor had the chance to break into an objection

“Look, we don’t know who else is out there or what kind of hardware they’re packing” He gestured at the weapon on the desk.

“We don’t even know what that’s fully capable of, but one blast from it knocked you back bad.  It won’t help Barton if you go out there blind and get yourself shot up.”

The warrior was still breathing heavily but paying attention to what Steve was saying.

“We’re all feeling the same thing, Thor. Hawkeye’s out there and he needs us but there’s nothing we can do right now beyond what we’re already doing.  First light we’ll be out there doing everything we can and I need you on board with that.  You with me?”

There was a long pause but finally the Asgardian sighed and nodded

“You are right, friend Steve.  I am sorry, I was not thinking clearly.  We should rest and prepare to move at early light.”

Steve patted him on the shoulder

“Good man! Dr Banner?” his voice took on a more cautious edge and Bruce knew what he was going to say

“You think this may be a Code Green situation?” There hadn’t been one since the Chitauri invasion and he felt his stomach grow cold

“If there are more of these out there it’s possible we may need the Big Man” admitted Steve “Can you cope with that?”

Banner looked down at his hands

“I know you wouldn’t ask unless you thought it was absolutely necessary so yes, I can cope.”

The Captain gave him an understanding look then turned to Ainsley

“Dr Kerr, I’m very sorry but you can’t come along.  You don’t have the clearance or the training for this.”

He hated saying it, knowing how much Dr Kerr cared for Barton.  Ainsley attempted a smile

“I understand, Steve.  I know I’m the token civilian here”

Steve put both his hands on the doctor’s shoulders and looked him square in the face.

“You’re not a token anything.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re as much part of this team as anyone; but this is a potential combat situation and I will not put you in danger.  We’ll let you know everything that happens as soon as we can”

Tony spoke, engrossed in his search but still paying close attention to what was happening around him

“I’ll call Pepper, get her to re-arrange her appointments and keep you company.  She’ll want to be here” there was a ping from his tablet “and I think we have a fix on Barton’s phone so if Thor could look at the map we can start to find our Pidgeon.”

###

Thor stood at the window staring out over the city lights into the darkness as if trying to scan the night for clues to where Hawkeye could be found.  They had fixed the location of his cell phone on the map and a Quinjet would be arriving at 4am to pick them up.  He was deeply troubled.

The warrior did not like to fail.  This was a trait he had also seen in Clint, the burning desire to prove himself best at what he did.  He felt he had failed his friend.  He should have stayed out there longer, got a better sense of what had happened to him and where he might be found.  He could not stay his mind from the thought that perhaps he deliberately did not do that. 

There was a part of him that remained unhappy about the deepening love between Clint and Ainsley.  Despite his best attempts to accept and understand the complexities of a relationship involving three people there were times he privately wished Clint would go away so it could just be the two of them again.

_Am I the type of traitor who would leave my friend and comrade, the man I lay with in the noontide sun, to die alone in the dark for such a reason?_

Quietly he walked over to where Mjolnir stood.  The hammer was on an ancient table of finely carved dark wood. Ainsley had brought it with him from London.  He let the tips of his fingers trace across the surface, feeling the faint roughness where careful polishing disguised the damage wrought by fire.  It had been a possession of Ainsley’s ancestors, a survivor of the flames that had consumed his lover’s family and home.  He remembered the honour he had felt when gifted this rare treasure of the House of Kerr to serve as Mjolnir’s resting place.

_Have I repaid such generosity with an act of cruel spite?_

He took hold of the great hammer’s handle, feeling it respond lightly and easily to his grasp.  Perhaps it was his head that was the traitor, not his heart.  He heard Ainsley come up behind him and felt his lover’s arms slip around his waist. 

The doctor rested his head against the Asgardian’s broad back and spoke softly.

“You didn’t desert him. You did everything you could at the time, then came to get more help”

Tasha had made him up an herbal tea earlier, saying it would help him sleep.  He had dozed fitfully, moving in and out of unpleasant dreams; Clint trapped in some narrow dark place, or threatened with fire and pain.  Scraps of anxiety bubbling up into disturbing images.  He had woken from one of these to see Thor silhouetted against the bedroom window, watched him as he stared out into the night.  The warrior might as well have been speaking his thoughts aloud as he walked over to Mjolnir, contemplating it and testing his worth against its immutable judgement.

“I am wondering if there is something I did not see.  He may have been lying in the undergrowth, unable to respond.  I should have looked harder before abandoning him”

He felt Ainsley’s arms tighten around his waist

“Here we call it ‘survivor’s guilt’.”

He paused, looking for the easiest words in which to explain it.

“When something terrible happens to people we love, it’s only natural that we imagine all the ways we could have done something different; something that could have helped them or saved them.  It doesn’t mean we failed them, or that we didn’t do the best we could at the time.  Do you have a word for that on Asgard?”

Thor bowed his head, remembering his own loss; the sickness he had felt in his stomach when he saw Frigga lying at the feet of the Kursed, the blood already pooling around his mother’s lifeless body.  His shoulders heaved in a painful sigh

“If I had been moments quicker, been less caught up in the joy of battle, I could have saved my mother. I see this many times in my dreams.”

He turned to look at his lover and there were tears in the deep blue of his eyes.

“I do not know if my people have a word for this.  I am not a man of learning, I fight with Mjolnir not with books and words; but I know this pain you speak of and the curse of it. My thoughts are unworthy; I do not know about my heart.”

Ainsley kissed him and held him close

“If your heart were unworthy or you wished Clint harm, you wouldn’t be feeling this pain.  It’s the price we pay for love.”

Thor looked down at his lover, feeling the truth being spoken; that he also loved Hawkeye and could intend him no ill.  Even if he had failed him today, he would not fail him tomorrow.

Ainsley took Thor’s hand and led him towards the bed.

“Come, lie down for a while.  You need to rest for the morning and I might sleep better with you beside me.”

###

_Barton, you need to stop waking up like this!_

The hot throbbing in his left ankle was getting worse.  His foot felt like it was wedged in a crack and his body had twisted awkwardly to one side.  A tree root or branch was poking hard into the back of his thigh, uncomfortably near places he would rather not get poked.  The darkness around him was absolute, his eyes still adjusting.  At one point, when he’d still been too groggy to focus he thought he’d seen a light.  His cell phone maybe?

His fingers brushed against something flat and plastic but it slipped out of his grasp.

He’d been in and out of consciousness since whatever had hit them.  He remembered the ice-blue flash of light and going head over heels down the slope, unable to stop or slow himself.  Something big had slammed into him, sending him flying.  He’d been back to back with Thor at the time.  Had the Big Blond been hit and taken him of his feet as well?  Must have been pretty major if that was the scenario.  That blue light, it was familiar…

_Shit_

The realisation chilled him back to full consciousness.  The Tesseract. Loki’s sceptre. The Chitauri.  Had a pack of them survived the destruction of their mothership and been hiding out here in the woods?  He glanced around fearful of seeing himself surrounded by those creepy masked helmets.  Nothing except a rough sliver of stars above him.  His tumble must’ve taken him into a gully.  Was that why whoever it was hadn’t found him, why Thor hadn’t found him? If the Big Blond was okay that is.

He shifted to try and balance himself on his free foot and stop the root or whatever it was sticking further into the back of his leg.  The ground underfoot was muddy and he slipped, wrenching his ankle more.

“Fuck!”

He threw his hands forward to steady himself and found them pressed against rock a couple of feet from his face.  His voice sounded tinny and he was noticing a persistent background buzzing. 

_That’s all I fucking need right now_

He was almost upright with enough balance to start feeling down to where his foot was trapped.  His ankle was tender but didn’t seem to be broken, probably just a bad sprain, but his boot was definitely stuck.  Wasn’t there a movie where some guy had cut his own foot off to get out of mess like this, or was it his arm?

_Not a helpful reference, Hawk!_

He winced as the root snagged him again.  It was so determined to get inside him maybe he should call it Thor.  Adjusting his position so he was free from that danger he began patting himself down for any useful items remaining on his person.

_Wallet? Check! Knife? Check!  Half a squashed Mars Bar? Yum! Keychain? Check! With… Mini… Maglite….! Thank you, sweet, kind, Doc for getting us all one of those ‘just in case’_

He didn’t know how much battery life it would have so the priority was getting loose.  The beam was focussed and bright, giving him a clear view of his foot wedged in a narrow crevice.  His ankle was already swelling but it looked as if he should be able to free himself.  Holding the torch between his teeth he prised back the laces and slid the blade of his knife behind them.  He kept the blade razor sharp and it slit them easily. Putting the torch back in his pocket he gritted his teeth and pulled.

He fell back heavily onto the slimy rock, breath escaping in one massive

“FUUUUCKK!!!!”

Once he’d checked that his foot was still attached to the rest of him he took a few minutes to catch his breath

_Time for that Mars Bar_

Okay. He couldn’t lie here much longer, even on a warm summers night the risk of exposure was too great.  Damp ground, temperature dropping; combined with shock and disorientation that could be fatal in the wrong circumstances.  He began to haul himself up the slope towards the surface, freezing as he heard voices and saw the sweep of a flashlight beam.  At least the voices were human.  He thought he heard his name being called.  Thank fuck!  The Big Blond must have got the team together and located his position.

“Guys!  Down here.  Clear and free!!”

The light shone straight into his eyes, obscuring the figure behind it; a rough, unfamiliar voice laughed

“Hey, we found ourselves the piggy that didn’t get away!”

_Awww shit…_

The butt of a rifle smacked him hard in the face.

###

They located the campsite just after 6am.  Tony, Thor and Steve had gone ahead.  Natasha was waiting with Bruce back at the Quinjet in case of Code Green.

There was a pale, clear, quality to the morning light as Tony surveyed the scene.  He had suited up before leaving the Penthouse, knowing that the sensors would be able to pick up far more than the unaided eye. 

He had often wondered what the full force of Mjolnir with the might of an angry Thor behind it would do to an ordinary unprotected human.  Disintegration was the best word he could find.  The body in front of him had ceased to exist from the waist up apart from a ragged stump of spinal column, the rest gone in a spray of bloody pulp.  Another was in similar condition.  The remains of a third halfway up a tree, thrown with such force it was impaled on the broken branches.

“Thor…” Steve sounded stunned and a bit nauseous “What did you do?”

Even the Asgardian seemed perturbed at what he had wrought.  He had no reason to regret the fate of these men; they had attacked him and Clint without cause or warning, possibly causing the death of his friend, but in the clear morning air there was a horror to the scene.  He was glad Steve had commanded that Ainsley remain at home.  This was not a sight for his eyes. 

“The berserker rage was on me” he said flatly “I sought only to slay my foes”

_Well you did that for sure, Thunderbolt_

Aloud, Tony said

“No sign of any weapons, someone must have come and cleared them out.  What’s left of these guys look like regular inbred mountain folks.  Any ideas, Cap?”

Steve pulled his mind back to the task at hand,

“There were rumours back in the 40s that HYDRA had weapons caches at sites along the Eastern States for use in the event of an invasion.  These guys may have stumbled across one and decided to have some fun hunting hikers; or they were hauling them off and our guys were in the way”

The billionaire glanced around at the wrecked clearing

“They picked the wrong hikers”

“Sir?”  It was Jarvis “I have located the position of Mr Barton’s cell phone.  It’s 20 metres to the north west”

When they got to the location the ground dipped down sharply towards an overhanging spur of rock, leaving a narrow, sloping gap.  The angle of the rock meant the bottom of the space was still dark and Tony shone a searchlight into it, fearful of what they might see.  A boot stuck in a crack with the laces slashed, a crumpled Mars-Bar wrapper and, further down, the edge of cell phone sticking out of the muddy bottom.  No Barton.

“There are tracks here” Thor called out “Four men, perhaps five, heading further down the hill.  Some of the tracks are deeper as if they were carrying a burden.”

“Well, Pidgeon is getting a bit tubby these days” observed Tony “Natasha, we have Barton’s trail, going to see where it leads.”

“What’s the status?”  Her voice was calm and steady but he could hear the undertone of concern

“No need for Code Green yet.  Stay with Bruce for now and I’ll update you once we have a target destination”

With Thor in front they began to follow the trail of the men who had taken Barton.  Tony could easily have done the tracking with the suit’s sensors, but the need of the Asgardian to take the lead in locating Cint was clear.  He could afford to hang back until necessary.

###

They’d pulled an old sack over his head as a hoodwink, but as he came back to awareness Clint was quick to take stock of his situation.  He was seated.  That was in his favour, taking some of the pressure off his ankle.  His hands had been tied behind his back, stretched around a beam or support.  Not big, but solid.  They’d used rope, coarse and sturdy but not too thick.  His ankles tied to the legs of the chair.  Felt like that was secured to the post as well.  Probably didn’t want him moving too much. 

Rope! These guys were amateurs.  If you’re going to tie a man’s hands, especially where they’re not immediately visible you don’t want to use something he can loosen even a bit. 

Amateur maybe, but still effective.  He began twisting his wrists, slowly at first, feeling the rough fibres starting to chafe and tear at his skin. 

Apart from the mustiness of the sack he could smell grease, engine oil, the sharp tang of cut metal and the cold dryness of bare earth.  Some kind of garage or workshop maybe.  That meant drills, pliers, hammers.  Oxy-acetylene torches if it really wasn’t his day.  Hopefully they wouldn’t be in the mood for a bit of Deliverance style role-play beforehand.  Maybe he shoulda packed lube after all…

That background buzzing was still there but he could hear voices outside, arguing.  Seemed like the guys who attacked them were supposed to be collecting and packaging whatever the ‘merchandise’ was rather than using it to go play ‘some Hills Have Eyes shit’.  He heard SHIELD mentioned a couple of times, these guys might be amateurs but whoever they were working for wasn’t

_Fuck! My ID’s in my wallet_

Most of them had local accents but the one doing the bulk of the yelling sounded like he was from further west. 

“…find out what he knows and finish him!”

As the door opened he could hear a truck driving off.

The sack was tugged off his head. 

_Yep, workshop and, oh look, a welding torch with big-ass cylinders.  Lucky me_

There were four men.  He named them Sweatbox, Bugeye, Toothy and Buzzcut, for immediately obvious reasons.  Tagging his opponents made it easier to keep track when it came to taking them down.

His wallet was lying on top of one of the workbenches, his knife beside it.  Just a bit too far away.  Sweatbox picked up his wallet and held it open in front of his face.  Showing him his SHIELD ID

_I hate that photo, makes me look like a bullfrog with mumps_

“Okay, Piggy” Sweatbox was speaking, he badly needed a dental plan “No point denying who you are or who you’re with so why dontcha just tell us why you and your psycho buddy were up here and I’ll slit your throat quick and clean.”

“Fresh mountain air and friendly local amenities” Clint grinned up at them “Know any good roadhouses?”

Sweatbox smacked him across the face, hard, and laughed

“Hey, you’re a funny guy.  Got plenty ‘amenities’ here to try out.  Maybe see how loud you can make us laugh.”

Clint spat a bit of blood out.  He’d hoped for the mean, macho, movie effect but it just dribbled down his chin.

“Shouldn’t we have a banjo duel first?”

If the Big Blond had got away that meant the team would be out looking for him; anything he could do to delay these fuckers gave him, and the others, a bit more time to act.  Sometimes a few seconds was all you needed.

“Don’t play no fuckin’ banjos” growled Buzzcut

Sweatbox picked up Clint’s knife and turned to the other three

“Go keep watch, tell me if you hear anythin’ other than Piggy here squealing.  I’ll shout you when it’s your go”

Hawkeye began moving his wrists as fast as he could without being obvious.  Titles had rolled and the main action was gonna be starting soon.

“Nice knife” Sweatbox commented, turning it in his hands and weighing it for balance “Might keep it as a souvenir”

He pushed the tip of the blade inside the neck of Clint’s T-shirt and pulled down, slicing it to the waist and ripping the rest away

_Fucker! that’s my favourite shirt_

Black with a broad purple stripe, Tasha had bought it for his birthday last year and he liked to wear it when he suited up.

He’d worked the rope loose enough to get some space.  His wrists were rubbed raw and bloody but that was a small price to pay.  The asshole had put the knife down within arm’s reach, now if only he could remember how to do the thing with his thumb. 

Sweatbox was lighting up the blowtorch. 

_Okay, that’s my motivation for this scene_

“Like the ink” Sweatbox commented, nodding towards the hawk and arrow tattoo on Clint’s bicep.

“Do a bit of tattoo work myself” he added with a cold smile, adjusting the flame “this is gonna play out similar.  Now, whaddaya say?  Love-heart with your girlfriend’s name?  Hope it’s real long like Veronica or Bernadette”

With his ankles still tied he would need Sweatbox in close for this to work.  Next minute or so wasn’t going to pleasant. 

“I’d say ‘yer mamma’” he snarled “but I wouldn’t want your leftovers”

The heat of the blowtorch was close enough for the hairs on his chest to be crisping.

“Only reason you still got your tongue is I need you to talk once you’ve done screaming”

Interrogation Resistance Training was comprehensive.  Taught you about all the tricks the body used to try and block out what was being done to it, the way it clung on to the secondary sensations; the smell and sound of bacon fat burning on a red-hot stovetop, the sharp acid taste at the back of the throat as the stomach’s contents churned up, the warm feel of the urine soaking into his pants.  He didn’t need to fake the agonized howl that covered the crack of his thumb dislocating.

His hands came around fast in a double palmstrike to the ears, rupturing Sweatbox’s eardrums.  He felt the skin of his stomach burning as the torch landed in his lap.  Throwing it away from him the archer grabbed his knife off the workbench and cut the ropes around his ankles. 

Sweatbox had pulled himself together enough to get hold of a chisel and lunge at him.  Bracing himself on the stool to protect his injured ankle Clint caught him in the gut with the full force of his boot, sending him sprawling back on the floor.

The adrenalin had taken over and Clint had him pinned with both knees, slashing down and across with enough force to open Sweatbox’s throat to the bone

_That’s for ripping my shirt! Asshole!_

The shed door opened

“Hey Dave! Piggy shit himself ye…”

Toothy went down gagging on blood with the knife in his neck, the carotid neatly severed.  Clint’s position, crouched over Sweatbox had him angled for the perfect throw.  Only a few people would recognize this Clint Barton; the swift, efficient killer who’d earned the nickname Hawkeye.

The torch had set fire to the oily refuse on the shed floor, the flames rapidly spreading up to one of the benches.  They were moving fast towards the oil drums and gas tanks on the far side.  Time to get out before he became Hawk Flambé.

Grabbing Toothy’s rifle he rolled through the door, the pain barely registering through the high as he came up in firing position and took down Bugeye as he ran towards the shed.  Buzzcut was smarter, maybe he had some training.  He was zigzagging towards the chassis of an old truck.  Hawkeye tracked ahead and took him out just before he reached cover.

_Yeah, fuckers! I just can’t seem to miss!_

The heat behind him was getting stronger, aerosol cans exploding.  Time to move fast.

He’d left it a bit late, could feel the burning on his back and his hair scorching.  Landing heavily on the ground he rolled automatically to extinguish any stray flames and leapt to his feet.

“SHIT!!!!” The pain shot up his leg like spiky electricity.  He vomited as he fell and landed face down in the dirt

_Okay.  Cool Barton has left the building._

He heard the voices before he made out the words, his ears ringing badly. Crap! Were there more of them?  Then he heard Cap.

“Hawkeye!?!? Clear!?!”

They’d started moving the moment the first gunshot was heard; Tony taking to the air, triangulating, Steve and Thor covering the ground fast.  The three zeroed in on the explosion, arriving simultaneously in the wreckage strewn ground.  The yard was scattered with burning debris, fires already starting on some of the other sheds.  Amidst it a prone figure struggling to rise.  Steve shouted the standard question for whether an agent was alive and safe, on his second call a hoarse, familiar voice responded

“Clear and free, sir!”

Clint had got to his knees by the time they reached him, grinning maniacally up at them through a mask of dirt, blood, vomit and mucus

“Hey guys!  You bring the marshmallows?”

Friendly hands helped him up.  Through the rising tide of pain, he heard Tony’s voice

“We’re going to have to put a plastic sheet down in the Quinjet; Fury’s just had it steam-cleaned.”

###

They’d flown him straight to the medical facility at the Tower.  He’d taken all the skin off both wrists and the burns on his chest and stomach were pretty severe.  Those would need ongoing treatment with the main concern just now being to avoid infection.  His ankle was just sprained and the burns on his back were superficial but half of his hair had been scorched away.  That was kinda the worst, meant he would need to crop the rest till it all grew back even.  Skinhead wasn’t a look that suited him.

The hills were crawling with SHIELD specialists working to locate the source of the weapons and where they’d been taken.  Bruce and Tony had grabbed a couple of hours’ rest then gone went to work on the specimen Thor had brought back. 

Ainsley was on the terrace smoking, a sure sign of the anxiety he felt.  Clint might be safe but that _thing_ upstairs in the lab disturbed him.  Steve had told him something of what HYDRA had been; the secret organisation within the Nazi regime fusing advanced technology with what sounded more like black magic than science, seeking to remake the world with their own twisted vision of a god-like over-race. 

Feldermann had lived through that time and sometimes spoke of the tide of madness that had overwhelmed his beloved Austria. He’d been too young for Grandpa Mannfried and Granny Sophie to share any of their recollections with him, but even as a child he’d always felt that they’d seen terrible things.

It was a just a material object, albeit fuelled by an alien power source, but it felt…

“Evil? You’re probably right”

The doctor jumped.  He hadn’t heard Steve join him

“Was I thinking aloud?”

The soldier nodded.  Dr Kerr had a habit of muttering to himself when deep in thought. 

“I didn’t think that was a fashionable word these days”

Ainsley smiled thinly, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Fashions alter over the years.  The words used may be less emotive but the fundamental concepts remain largely unchanged.  Rationally speaking that thing downstairs is only an item with no moral qualities in itself but it’s still the product of a positive evil intended solely for the purpose of destruction.”

Steve grinned.  Dr Kerr could never use one word when ten would do just as well

“So, it gives you the creeps too, huh?”

“It should” said Tony, walking out onto the terrace with what looked surprisingly like orange juice.  He offered the other glass he held to the doctor “Mimosa?”

Steve sighed, he shouldn’t be surprised.  After what they’d all been through he couldn’t even pretend to be bothered.

“Have you and Dr Banner been able to determine how it works?”

Tony set down his drink and helped himself to one of Ainsley’s cigarettes

“Demonically simple really.  Think of a cross between an automatic weapon and one of those torches where you can concentrate the beam.  Broad, wide, pulses all the way to focussed, sustained bursts of fire.  Luckily the morons that had them couldn’t work out something as basic as a dial and still had them on the factory settings.”

Ainsley had lit another cigarette.  Steve looked as if he was considering taking up smoking.

“So, what if they’d turned up the juice?” 

Some questions you didn’t want answered still had to be asked.  Tony exhaled a lungful of smoke

“According to Bruce it could’ve burned a hole right through Thor.  Possibly his battle armour might deflect some or most of it, although we couldn’t be sure of that without testing and I’m not going to be the one to ask him to suit up and try it out.”

 “And we have no idea how many of these there are, or where they are?” Ainsley’s concern mirrored theirs, he turned to Steve “What did Director Fury have to say?”

The soldier had locked horns with the Director over the phone earlier.  He was still seething about it

“Fury says he’s got his own men working on it.  Doesn’t want us involved.  Too ‘High Profile’ for this situation!”

The doctor gave a snort of derision

“So, he knows something he doesn’t want us to find out? That comes as no surprise”

###

The agent’s voice was calm and precise as he updated the SHIELD Director

“We found the truck abandoned at a gas station ten miles from the cabin site.  Gamma signatures confirm that it was being used to transport the weapons.  Looks like they were offloaded onto one or more other vehicles.  We’re following up those leads right now”

Fury tried to control his impatience.  They were only at the start of the search but the longer those weapons were out there the harder it would be to trace them before they were used again.  HYDRA may not have succeeded in creating their own Super Soldier but that hadn’t stopped them creating a weapon that could take one down. 

Stark had graciously permitted him to know that a specimen had been recovered and would be delivered to him with all the relevant information. 

_But only now that he’s got everything out of it that he can_

“Do you have any good news for me?”

“The gas station CCTV caught an image of the truck-driver.  Only a partial but I’m sending it over to you right now”

Fury watched as the image downloaded onto the screen in front of him; the man looked young, mid 30s probably, broad built, hard-looking. Unshaven features partly concealed by the brim of a baseball cap.

“That’s not much to go on.  You’re running facial recognition?”                                                           

“I don’t have to, sir.” replied Agent Coulson “The man’s name is Charles ‘Barney’ Barton; Clint’s brother.”


	9. Secrets and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline 7/8th August 2013 – A week and a half after the events of If You Go Into The Woods Today  
> Ainsley reflects on the effect that Clint’s capture and torture has had on the whole team as he tries to immerse himself in a project that could be critical to the future of the Avengers  
> The doctor comes into possession of a disturbing secret and turns to Natasha Romanoff to help him decide on how to handle it.  
> Clint, still suffering the physical and mental trauma of his ordeal, finds comfort and support from Thor while Steve is forced by circumstances to make a couple of big decisions of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ampleforth is a private school in England, run by Benedictine monks and patronised by wealthy Catholic families like the Kerrs  
> *Dom (from the latin Dominus) is an honorific used by fully professed Benedictine monks before their Monastic name  
> Aftermath of torture references

_I don’t want to be doing this right now._

Ainsley took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  The tensions of the last few days clung to all of them and work was doing nothing to assuage it.  Clint was back on his feet but still undergoing treatment for his burns and badly shaken by what had happened to him in the mountains.  Not surprising, they’d gone to work on him with a blowtorch after all; oh, and destroyed his favourite T Shirt in the process.  The last bit sounded silly really, but it had been from Natasha and Clint wasn’t a man who’d had many presents in his life, even fewer friends to give them.

At least he’d spoken to the trauma counsellor Ainsley had recommended and agreed to further sessions.  She came from a SHIELD approved list, of course, but Dr Osario had a good reputation for solid common-sense.

Thor had been a godsend, well demi-godsend.  The Asgardian might not know the term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but he’d seen enough battles to know the ordeals warriors could go through long after physical fighting ended.  He was dealing with plenty of his own and the two men had been spending a lot of time together.

“It is my turn to look after Clint” his lover had said to him and Ainsley knew that Thor was working through his own feelings of guilt and jealousy in the best way he knew how, by being present for his friend when he needed him

He could feel the frustration amongst the others with Fury keeping them at arm’s length from the case.  The existence of weapons powerful enough to take down, or at least seriously injure, Steve and Thor, was a clear threat to them all.  Being prevented from doing anything about it was stretching them thin.  Steve had destroyed who knows how many punching bags and Natasha might as well move her bed into the basement firing range. 

At least Tony and Bruce could immerse themselves in the weapon’s schematics trying to figure out any means of neutralising, or defending against, it.  Tony had handed the original over to the SHIELD labs, admitting with bad grace they were better equipped to handle it but demanding to be kept involved. 

_And what about you, Ainsley?_

He knew the Avengers had dangerous lives and thought he could cope with it; after all, when Lance was off on active duty there was always the risk he wouldn’t come back, at least not in one piece.  The reality felt very different, the threats they confronted of a different magnitude and nature, from worlds and dark corners of history beyond anything he could have imagined a year or so ago.  Everyone had faced a degree of culture shock after the Chitauri Attack but he’d managed to place himself right at Ground Zero. 

If this had happened on a mission perhaps he would have had the luxury of mentally preparing himself for things to go bad.  Sitting with Pepper, staring at his phone, waiting to hear if someone he loved was alive or dead was just too reminiscent of those days in Nairobi; desperately hoping Izzie had made it out. 

Even when he knew Clint was alive, seeing him on the gurney was a shock; covered in blood and filth with the raw, angry burns on his body, trying to grin and joke despite the intense pain.  Pumping him full of the strongest painkillers they could safely use still hadn’t stopped him screaming while the nurses cleaned his wounds.

He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face.  It didn’t help that he wasn’t getting much sleep just now.  Thor had started having his nightmares again and they were happening almost every night.  The warrior would wake, terrified and disoriented, clinging on to him for comfort and re-assurance until the trembling stopped.  That wasn’t as bad as the noises he made before jerking back into wakefulness; terrible, animal sounds of pain and distress.  Thor had told him what it was he dreamed of.  Clint’s experience had clearly been the trigger this time round, that and Thor’s continued belief he could have done more to find him.

Ainsley sighed and got up, walking over to the window and staring out across the campus.  He couldn’t run from this, even if it were in his nature to do so.  _Foi et Honneur_ was the family motto. Faith and Honour, maintained in the face of Reformation, Commonwealth and Revolution.  The Kerr’s held true to their word and their beliefs.  He remembered something Dom Aidan at Ampleforth had said when they’d talked about vocations “There comes a point where you see the Truth and you have the choice to ignore it or embrace it.  Either way, you’ll never be the same again.”

He laughed to himself.  He didn’t think the old Benedictine had this type of situation in mind but his words were still valid.  He could never go back to his old life now, knowing what lay behind the comfortable fictions. Even if that were possible, he would never abandon Thor and Clint, especially not now that deep down he feared a darkness was beginning to gather that could threaten all of them.

It was the lack of activity, as much as anything else, that was eating into the team; making them edgy and angry.  Fury should be finding them an assignment, a real one they could through their energy into.

_We need something to do_

He smiled at the automatic use of ‘we’.  They might have welcomed him into their lives and treated him as part of the team but he wasn’t an Avenger any more than Pepper and he had to remember that.  He sat back down and turned to the files in front of him.  The others might be climbing the walls just now but he did have something to do.

The Academy Project had emerged from his work with the Index Asset and Evaluation Training Protocols and a long conversation with Steve and Tony.  It was a bold concept, one he had proposed to Fury when visiting the Triskelion at the Director’s invitation. 

Current SHIELD policy entailed the observation, registering, control and if necessary ‘crossing out’ of gifted persons.  The idea of making use of their abilities had apparently never been considered; or rather discounted as being ‘too potentially volatile’. That had been decided before the world changed and never revisited.

What he and Steve proposed to the Director was a radical departure from that policy.  Selecting the right mix of gifted persons and regular Academy students to provide the ‘Next Generation’ of Avengers alongside specialised support teams.  SHIELD wasn’t good at thinking outside the box, preferring to put things in boxes and forget them instead, but this caught Fury’s attention. 

The original Avengers Initiative had been shelved and the team assembled to deal with Loki and the Chitauri pulled together at a moment’s notice with no long-term plan.  The proposed scheme offered a much-needed context for reviving the Initiative and sustaining it on a semi-independent basis.  The Director gave cautious approval to a preliminary feasibility study and assessment of potential candidates for selection.

Processing the psychological evaluations was integral to this assessment and it was hardly something that could be dumped on, sorry ‘delegated to’ an intern.

He barely noticed the young woman who put another bundle on the corner of his desk

“That’s the last of them, Dr Kerr!”

He nodded his thanks and pulled them over.  The second one from the top looked odd, too thick to be one of the evaluation questionnaires.  The girl must have pulled the wrong file.  Ainsley went out into the hall to try and catch her but she was already gone.

_Damn, I need a cup of tea and a smoke_

He went back to his desk to get his cigarettes and picked up the file. 

_I might as well see what it is and hand it back at the Records Desk on my way out; looks like it’s been misfiled._

A photocopy of an intelligence dossier.  Someone had made a very big mistake.  There was a post-it note on the front page that just said

**It’s your call**

He glanced at the name on the file.  After looking at it for several minutes he put it down and picked up the phone

“Stacy? It’s Dr Kerr in Social Sciences.  I forgot that I’m meant to be having dinner back in New York tonight, can you get me a seat on a transport in the next hour?”

###

Natasha felt her phone vibrate.  She put down her pistol, pulled off the headphones and checked the caller ID

“Ainsley?” From the sound of her voice she might as well have said ‘Why are you interrupting me?’

“Natasha, darling!  Sorry to be a nuisance but I’m on my way back to town and was wondering if you could pick me up at the airport.”

His bright tone irritated her.  Driving in New York was annoying at the best of times and she had no desire to act as Ainsley’s personal chauffeuse today

“I’m busy. Get a taxi.”

“But sweetheart!” He sounded hurt, and campy, and when had he ever called her sweetheart or darling for that matter? “We still need to talk about Clint’s birthday surprise!”

Okay, Clint’s birthday had been last month.  This was something more than Ainsley being fussy about the cleanliness of New York cabs

“What time does your flight get in?”

The Dr Kerr who got into her car didn’t seem hurt or campy in any way.  He was angry, and a bit scared,

“We’ll go to mine” She said; this didn’t feel like something she wanted to take back to the Penthouse right away.

Despite moving in to Stark Tower, Natasha maintained her own apartment in a converted SoHo loft.  It was a useful place of escape and allowed her to act independently of Stark and the ever-watchful Jarvis when necessary.  It was the first time Ainsley had been there and the chic 60’s retro style was a pleasant surprise.  She made them tea while he explained the reason for his call and then she sat down to read the file.

“How did you get this?”

It was above both their clearance levels, neither of them should have access to it and being found with it in their possession would have serious consequences.

“I think someone wanted me to know why Fury doesn’t want the Avengers involved in this case.  It might even be Fury himself giving us a nod on the sly.  As you know Clint best out of all of us, and seem to be the least unbalanced just now, you were probably the best person to share it with.  What the others might do if they found this out worries me.”

She smiled, despite her own anger.  ‘Least unbalanced’ was a good way of putting it.  She laid the file down and sat back.

“It worries me as well” She was silent for a moment “Are you going to tell him?”

Ainsley’s laugh was sharp and humourless

“Do you think he’s in a place where it’s safe to tell him his own brother ordered his torture and execution? Or that his brother’s been on SHIELD’s radar for the last three years; even got used briefly as an ‘asset’?” 

Clint’s SHIELD ID had been in his wallet, there was no possibility that Barney Barton didn’t know exactly who was trussed up in the shed. 

“Or rather on and off the radar” he continued “You noticed how every time someone comes close to taking him in he manages to go completely underground?”

She nodded, fully aware of what that implied.  Three years ago, going by the notes in the file, Barney Barton had gone from a small time crook and conman to being involved in the transportation of hi-tech and ‘unorthodox’ weapons and equipment to persons and places unknown.  The record showed that on two occasions he’d been used as a mole in sting operations, somehow managing to evade being caught in the clean ups. 

One other time, they’d been on the point of taking him in but he’d disappeared before the agents got there.  Either he was a lot smarter than his record gave him credit for, or someone on the inside had warned him.

Ainsley looked over at her, his eyes were full of sadness and pain

“How could he do that to his own little brother?”

Natasha remembered that the doctor’s older brother had died saving him and his sister from the flames consuming their family home.  Like many kind and reasonable people, Ainsley wanted to believe that deep down everyone else was equally good-natured. 

_It’s his most endearing quality.  If we’re not careful it’s going to get him killed_

She took his hand. 

“Your family loved you and cared for you.  Even with all your insight and empathy I don’t think you fully understand the way years of systematic cruelty can warp a person’s nature.”

He glanced over at the file and put his other hand on hers.  Despite their friendship, physical contact was rare and meaningful.

“I’m beginning to realise that”

“Can you use a gun?” She was looking directly at him, the question brisk and matter of fact.

“No, but I suspect you’re offering to teach me”

“I can if you want” a thought occurred to her “If you have an objection to firearms there are other forms of self-defence I can show you”

He smiled, feeling relief at the sudden switch to practicalities.

“I’ve got no objection, but having a couple of additional options wouldn’t be a bad idea.  Anything that involves a cocktail shaker and a tightly-rolled copy of ‘Psychopathology Today’?”

“Unfortunately, no!” She shook her head, laughing “Although I can guarantee you’ll never look at a manicure set the same way again”

He laughed with her but there was trepidation in his voice when he spoke

“Something’s happening, Natasha, something dark and terrible.  We both feel it and we’re all going to have to look out for each other’s backs.  You can’t afford for me to be a potential liability.”

She kissed his hand, the intimacy a silent confirmation of the fears they shared.  They sat together for a moment without the need for speech.  She picked up the file and began leafing through it again.

“What are we going to do about this?”

Ainsley thought for while

“I think we need to tell Steve” He registered her look of surprise “You know how he’ll react if he finds out we’re keeping something this important from him.”

He was right of course; Steve might be angry just now but that was small change compared to how he would respond to such a breach of trust.  The doctor continued

“We want to avoid clashing with whatever investigation SHIELD has underway, but there are some potential leads that can be followed up to give us a fuller picture of what we’re dealing with.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows and handed him the file

“Why Dr Kerr, you’re becoming quite the investigator.  Tell more.”

###

**_Earlier that same day_ **

Thor was surprised to find Clint outside the door of his apartment as he came back from the gym.  The archer was sitting on the floor, idly tossing and catching his cap with two take-out mugs beside him.

“I thought we were going out for coffee?”  The disappointment in Thor’s voice was clear.  Beth the waitress always gave them free pastries ‘for her favourite regulars’. 

Clint got to his feet and picked up the mugs, wincing a bit.  The burns on his chest and stomach were still raw, needing regularly cleaned and redressed.

“Don’t worry Big Blond, you’ll get your raisiny treats.  I just wanted to talk in private first.  Got you a hot chocolate the way you like it”

Clint had been quiet and subdued since they brought him home.  There had been few of his customary jokes or laughs.  The Asgardian knew how being taken and tortured could damage a warrior’s spirit but there was something else troubling his friend.  Clint had been facing many demons from his past these recent weeks.  Who could tell what fresh pain had been summoned up by his ordeal?

Once they were inside, Clint put the cups on the table and sat down.  He rubbed the palms of his hands together, fighting the urge to fidget with his bandages.  His wounds felt itchy, a sign they were starting to heal.  Trying not to scratch at them took all his willpower

Thor picked up his mug and peered under the lid, wrinkling his nose.  The coffee shop in the Stark Tower lobby always put too many marshmallows in the hot chocolate.  He would need to wash his beard again before they went out. He took a mouthful anyway, so as not to seem scornful of his friend’s generosity, and sat down.  He carefully put an arm around Clint’s shoulders, mindful of his injuries. He flinched and Thor pulled away.  That had been foolish.  Ainsley had told him how people who had suffered violence could be upset by unexpected physical contact. 

“I am sorry.  I did not mean to alarm you.  I should have asked you first.”

The archer took his friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze

“It’s okay, Blondie, still a bit jumpy I guess.”  There was a faint tremor in his voice “Really wouldn’t mind if you want to hold me for a bit, though”

Thor put his arm back around his friend and drew him close.  Clint curled in tight against him as if trying to absorb some of the bigger man’s strength and resilience.  Thor kept himself quiet and still, feeling the man beside him shaking.  Eventually the archer straightened up and swallowed down his tepid coffee.

“Thanks, Big Blond.  You’re a real rock, you know that?”

Thor grinned slightly.  Clint’s next words took him by surprise

“I’m deaf”

He looked at him questioningly.  Was this one of Clint’s jokes?

“How can that be?  You hear everything I say.”

Clint put his hands up to his ear and pulled out a soft, plastic, bud.  It was like the ones on the headphones for the music player Ainsley bought him in London, but smaller and clear.  Looking closely at the object on the other man’s palm he could see miniature electrical circuits inside it.  Clint turned his head slightly to show Thor how it fitted into his ear.  Even now he knew it was there it was difficult to see. 

“And these devices allow you to hear properly?”

Other Asgardians might dismiss the Realm of Midgard as backward and primitive, but he would never cease to be fascinated by the ingenious solutions its inhabitants found to their problems.

Clint nodded.  Dr Osario had suggested he should consider talking about his deafness to other members of the team.  Thor had been the obvious choice, despite his misgivings about the Big Blond’s ability to keep it to himself if asked; Steve would get angry, Tony sarcastic and he felt he didn’t know Bruce well enough to lay this on him.  He swallowed hard;

“It happened about a year before New York, not long after you were in New Mexico.  A concussion grenade went off close to my head. The docs thought it might wear off after a few days or weeks but it didn’t. 80% deaf in both ears.”

He paused and looked across at Thor.  He was watching him attentively, clearly understanding what such an injury meant for a man like Hawkeye.

“Thought that was me done but Phil convinced Fury I was too valuable a specialist; said with the right hearing aids I’d be as good as ever.  Agreed to keep it under wraps so long as I got it checked out regular; didn’t think too many people would want to be in the field with the deaf guy.”

Coulson had pretty much saved his life.  SHIELD was the only thing he had left; Phil knew if he lost that it would end up with a bottle of bourbon and a bullet in a motel room somewhere.

Thor leaned over and kissed Clint on the tip of his ear

“You are not ‘The Deaf Guy’.  You are my friend Hawkeye the Avenger and I am honoured to fight alongside you.”

Clint put his head back down on Thor’s chest, feeling the pulse of the warrior’s heartbeat against his cheek.

“I’ve become a liability, Big Blond.  That blast in the woods damaged them, messed with my hearing.  Thought I heard someone calling my name.  Wouldn’t have broken cover otherwise.”

He was shaking again.  Trying to keep his voice level.

“If it happens again when we’re in the field I could put you all in danger.”

Thor could feel where his friend’s thoughts were going and knew it was a bad place.

“Have you told the others of this?”

Clint shook his head

“Tasha’s known since it happened.  Ainsley worked it out for himself. I’ve not told the others”

That made sense.  Natasha would guard her friend’s secrets close and Ainsley was bound by the Obligation of a Healer.

“You must tell Steve. And Tony” 

Steve was their leader; he would have to know.  Tony would be able to find some clever solution.

Clint was shaking very badly now.  When he looked up at Thor his face was that of a frightened child

“I’m scared.”

Thor could feel a cold anger stirring deep within him. 

_I will find the man who did this to my friend.  He will pay for the pain he has caused._

“Are you afraid Steve will ask Director Fury to remove you?”

Clint nodded

“Fury’ll have a hard time re-assigning me.  You know the rep I’ve got around Field Ops these days.  The Avengers are kinda Hawkeye’s last stand.”

It angered Thor the way that Clint’s comrades in SHIELD had turned against him.  His actions had not been his own and he had proven himself time and time again to be a true and valiant man.   

“But you were not to blame for what happened.  Your mind was possessed by another.”

Thor tried not to speak Loki’s name around the other Avengers, just as they were careful not to mention it in his presence.  It was only with Ainsley that he could speak about how Loki sacrificed himself upon the ashy plains of Svartalfheim and how he truly felt about the brother he loved and hated in equal measure.

Clint sighed; he knew that Thor still loved his brother, even after all he had done.  Maybe sometime the Big Blond could teach him how to do that. 

“Just makes it seem worse. Like I got a jinx on me or something.”

Warriors could be superstitious on any world.  Thor understood.  He bent his head down and kissed his friend gently on the mouth.

“Speak to Steve and Tony.  They will know what can be done.” He looked Clint square in the face, still seeing the fear in his eyes.

“If Steve sends you away he is a fool.  It will anger me and Natasha.  It will anger Ainsley as well.  He may even raise his voice.”

He grinned as he saw the flicker of a smile and kissed Clint again, on the forehead

“If he sends you away I will ask Director Fury to assign you to me and we can fight side by side where we are needed.”

He could sense the agitation decreasing in the man beside him, the shaking diminishing for now.  He kept his arm around him though, knowing the comfort the archer found in his presence.  They were like that for a long time and eventually Thor realised that Clint had fallen asleep, exhausted by his anxiety, his head pillowed on the Asgardian’s chest.  He leaned his own head back against the cushions and closed his eyes.  Free pastries could wait until later.

###

Steve got the text just after his morning run.

**Come to the apartment. We need to talk. NR**

More secrets, just what he needed.  Yesterday had been bad enough.  Enough that he’d been tempted to take up Stark’s offer of seeing just how drunk he could possibly get with his speeded-up metabolism.  There was no real outlet for his anger right now.  It wouldn’t have been fair to take it out on Barton.  It had taken a lot of guts for him to come clean, knowing what it could cost even with Thor fighting his corner.  Fury? He’d been honouring Coulson’s decision to give the man a chance.  Heck, if he’d known he probably wouldn’t have taken the archer on and that would’ve been a big mistake.

He’d calmed down slightly by the time his motorcycle pulled up but there was still a lot of lingering tension.  He was surprised to find Dr Kerr there.  Something major must have happened for him to return to New York without letting them know.  A neatly folded pile of bedding at the end of the couch told him he’d stayed over.

He accepted the coffee Natasha offered and sat back while she explained what they had discovered, leafing through the file on Barton’s brother.

Once they’d finished he put the file to one side and exhaled slowly

“So, his hearing aids weren’t messing up, it was just a different Barton they were calling.”

He wasn’t looking at their faces but he heard them both take a breath.  That was a mean trick, he knew, but in his present state of mind he couldn’t resist it.

“Barton told me yesterday afternoon.  Seems like your Dr Osario got through to him that it would help his recovery if he felt he wasn’t hiding things from the team.”

“What are you doing to do?” The challenge in Natasha’s voice was clear

“I’m going to respect Agent Coulson’s call and give him the same terms.  He stays on the team provided he meets regular auditory fitness tests.  Stark’s redesigning his hearing aids to make them more resistant to electrical pulses”

 _Should take him all of lunchtime_ thought Ainsley.  Steve continued

“If he fails to meet the required standard he will be off active duty without any further questions.  Barton’s accepted this and I expect everyone else to do the same.”

Natasha nodded, there was no argument with Steve’s decision.  It was clear and fair, the one she would make herself in his position.  A lot of team leaders wouldn’t have been that generous under the circumstances, and would have called the pair of them out for keeping it to themselves.  Ainsley’s response took Steve by surprise

“We have to tell him about Barney”

“What?” he exclaimed.  The doctor sat back and took a long hit of his vaporiser

“Clint’s just shared his biggest secret with everyone.  He’s been terrified of people discovering it for nearly three years and now he’s forced down that fear and opened himself up, trusting that you’ll stand by him.  How do you think it’ll go when he discovers we’ve repaid his trust by keeping this back?”

The two of them had discussed it last night.  Clint’s mental state was fragile, that was true, but he was still a skilled agent and no fool, despite his best efforts to prove the contrary.  It would be hard to carry out their own investigations without him finding out and probably cause more damage than telling him up front.  Steve’s news decided the matter, there were enough people keeping secrets from the Avengers.  Keeping secrets from each other would only destroy the unity they were trying to build.

“We know this poses a threat to all of us, and we all need to be on board facing it.  Keeping Clint out of it ties one hand behind our backs from the start.  It’s going to be tough but he’s not made of glass and he’s got us to help him through.  We have to be his family from now on.”

Steve glanced at Natasha, she gave him a slight nod.

“You’re right on all counts, Dr Kerr.  I can’t expect honesty and not give it back in return, are you willing to step up to the plate and help with what needs to be done?”

“You can count on me, Steve.”

“Okay” The soldier took a deep breath “I need you to start some form of defensive training as soon as possible.  Is that going to be a problem?”

“Already onto that, Cap,” said Natasha “We’ve got our first appointment this afternoon”

Steve grinned, feeling the anger and tension draining away as a plan of action began to take shape

“Good!  Regardless of what Fury or SHIELD may say or think, as far as I’m concerned from this point on you’re a full member of the team and we can’t afford to carry passengers.  I’m not intending on putting you into any combat situations, Thor and Barton would kill me, but I will expect you to be able to defend yourself if necessary.”

He handed the file over to the doctor

“Now, where do you suggest we start with this?”

Ainsley put the folder on the table and leaned forward with a sly look

“We need to start with someone who isn’t in this file.  Clint’s old mentor, Trickshot.”


	10. Demons of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline 8th/9th August 2013. The night after the events of Secrets and Truths  
> Even the strongest have their breaking point. The revelation of his brother’s actions wakens a new resolve and determination in Clint but Thor’s inner conflicts come bursting violently to the surface, causing the archer to fear his friend has done something unthinkable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic torture reference and implications of domestic violence

Hawkeye put down the pencil and examined the sketch with a critical eye.  The design looked sleek but impractical.

The room was dark except for a bright patch of light around the table where he was working.  Sketches and diagrams covered his makeshift workbench.  He was shirtless and the bandages were off, exposing the livid marks on his torso.  Most of the burns were relatively minor but he had two bad ones on his chest and stomach.  Dr Ames at the Medical Facility had him trying out a new treatment, a gel supposed to promote cellular regeneration.  Part of the process meant giving the wounds plenty of air to allow the blueish-green goo to be fully absorbed. 

He had no idea what was in it, just hoped it wasn’t pureed Chitauri. If it worked like they said he wouldn’t need a skin grafts on the one where Sweatbox had started to sear a love-heart into his chest, or where he’d almost burned himself a new navel getting free.  Just as well, if this kept up he wouldn’t have any skin left on his ass. 

Putting the paper to one side he opened the drawer and pulled out a couple of fresh sterile dressings.

_Better wash my hands before putting these on_

He was feeling more like his old self tonight, caught up in working on the schematics for a new arrow design.

It was an idea that’d been bouncing around his head for a while.  Everyone seemed so hot on those new dendrotoxin rounds he might as well see if it they could be adapted for his weapon of choice.  ‘Night-Night’ rounds, it was a stupid name but had caught on.  If the arrow idea worked he’d call them something cooler like ‘Sandman Specials.’

He might need to brainstorm with Tony about the delivery mechanism though, all the plans he’d come up with so far worked in theory but looked like they’d have the awkward side-effect of death.

He dried his hands and fixed the dressings in place, grinning.

Tash had been down earlier, looking at the sketches with an approving eye, and asked if he was aiming for capture rather than kill.  The implication beneath her words was obvious.

He pulled a T Shirt out of the drawer and held it in his hands for a moment

They’d told him earlier that day, all of them together in the living room.  He’d sat and listened in silence, asked to read the file then handed it back to Steve and stood up

“I need to get some work done.”  He’d been down in his apartment ever since. 

He pulled his T Shirt on and sat down on the end of the bed.  He wasn’t fine, he was so far from fine he wouldn’t know how to programme the satnav, but they needn’t worry about him going rogue; running after Barney.  He would’ve done, not too long ago.  Dropped everything and not cared about the consequences because there wasn’t anything for him to lose. 

Last time he saw Barney was when he and Duquesne left him to die in a ditch when he was 16, over half his life ago.  It was two days before someone found him.  He might have lasted another day or so before thirst and exposure took him.  Leaving him to Sweatbox and gang didn’t come as too much of a surprise in the circumstances, although it wasn’t the best thing in the world to find out.  He just wished he knew what had turned his big brother into a man who wanted him dead. 

The bastard didn’t even have the guts to stay or to do it himself.  He’d drove off like Clint was a piece of waste to be discarded all over again. 

He held out his hands and looked at them, no shakes or trembling; firm and steady.  He’d go down to the range tomorrow and put in a few test shots, starting waking up the old Hawkeye magic.  Maybe try and catch Tash giving Ainsley his first proper shooting lesson.  He laughed softly to himself

_Bet anyone $20 Doc’s flat on his cute little butt after the first shot_

He caught sight of his reflection in the wardrobe mirror.  His face was set and composed, the sadness still in his eyes but something of the old determination and fire creeping back in. No temptation to open the nightstand drawer.

He picked at a loose thread on his T Shirt.  Deciding to tell him must have been a tough decision given the way he’d been recently but they’d trusted he was strong enough to take it.  Maybe that was it, realising that his friends did still trust him despite the bad patch or perhaps it was simple as discovering he wasn’t a liability, just a man who hadn’t expected there to be two Bartons in the woods. 

He stopped trying to unravel his shirt and remembered Tasha saying something about a big pot of soup.

It was dark in the Penthouse and there was no-one else in the living room.  It was late, well past 1am; he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and realised he was ravenously hungry.  He sat in front of the fire munching on chunks of bread dipped in cold soup, watching one of Cap’s 20th Century History DVDs.  Steve was catching up on the last 70 years the old-fashioned way.

Jarvis interrupted him.  Clint couldn’t get used to how human the computer sounded, it honestly creeped him out. 

“Mr Barton; Dr Banner asks if you could come to the medical laboratory immediately.  Dr Kerr has had an accident.”

He was there in a couple of minutes, not even slightly out of breath from running the four flights of stairs.  He didn’t like taking elevators if he could avoid it, too slow and too easy to get trapped.  Ainsley was on the gurney looking dazed, blood on his face.  Bruce was gently feeling around his neck and shoulders to check for any injury.

“What’s happened?” Clint’s voice was sharp with concern.  Bruce shrugged slightly

“I don’t really know yet.  Ainsley’s not making much sense just now and as for him…”

He followed his gesture to the far corner of the room.  Thor was curled there white faced and trembling.

_Fuck, what now?_

He dropped to his haunches beside the Big Blond.

“Hey Thor, wassup?” There was no response

_Christ, I think he’s going into shock_

“Hey! Hey Blondie! HEY!”

The noise of the slap took Bruce by surprise, Clint too.  He never imagined he’d ever have the balls to smack Thor across the face but it seemed to work.  The Asgardian focussed in on his presence, noticing him for the first time.  He was crying and trying to form words

“Thor! Talk to me! What’s happened?”  The Big Blond murmured something he couldn’t hear “Louder, I can’t understand you.”

Then he heard what his friend was saying repeatedly, almost inaudibly

“I hit him.”

###

_He was trapped in the cycle of pain and questions.  They would not believe the truth and he could not find a lie to convince them.  It had gone on for hours, or was it days? Relieved only by the short breaks when his torturers took refreshments and the man in the white coat gave him an injection that kept him from passing out.  He could not see out of his right eye and it was hurting him to breathe.  Blood clogged his nose and crusted round his beard._

_They had forced his legs apart and were pushing something hard, cold and metallic into him, twisting and tearing at his insides.  Bellowing in agony, rage and humiliation he pulled desperately at the straps holding him down. The restraint on one of his wrists snapped and he lashed out, frantic to stop the torment even for a few seconds._

It was the crash that woke him and he sat up, sweating, gasping for breath, pulling himself out of the horror of the dream.  It was then he saw Ainsley crumpled against the coffee table trying to stand, blood running down his face.

###

Bruce had been unable to get any sense out of the hysterical warrior, only that Ainsley had been hurt and it was somehow his fault.  As soon as they arrived in the med-lab Thor had collapsed into the corner, totally incoherent. 

_Get Clint_ was his first and foremost thought.  He was the only one likely to get some sense out of the man or get him out of the way. 

“What?” Clint couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They’d all been under a hell of a lot of stress lately but surely Thor wouldn’t…  Not Doc!

He turned to Bruce with a stunned expression

“He says he hit him.”    

Bruce looked dubious.  It wasn’t impossible, but his initial assessment was that Ainsley had tripped or fallen and cracked his head against something, there was no immediate sign of concussion and the blood was from a cut on his earlobe.  He was reasonably certain that a blow of any sort from Thor would have left him more seriously injured.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to get Thor out of here.  He’s clearly in a disturbed state and I work better without a naked man crying in the corner.”

“Is that why you don’t let Stark in the lab on Tequila Night?” asked Clint bracing his back and hooking his hands into Thor’s armpits.

“C’mon Big Blond, let’s get you out of here so nice Dr Banner can work in peace.”

He pushed up and Thor started to rise.  The trick was to dig the thumbs into the sensitive skin under the arms and let the other guy do the work.  It was still heavy going and he briefly considered getting Steve or Tony but cancelled that thought.  The night was already getting way too complicated.  At least Thor was allowing himself to be led to the elevator, adding a hernia to his list of injuries wasn’t going to be an issue. 

He got Thor into the apartment and onto the couch, throwing him a pair of sweatpants.  He noticed the coffee table knocked to one side, a smear of blood on the corner.  His practised eye assessed the scene.  Doc must’ve fallen back and caught his head against the edge.  Looked like Thor had been sleeping on the couch. His clothes were by the side of it, still neatly folded.

_Did they have an argument this evening?_

He should stop jumping to conclusions.  Bruce seemed to think Ainsley’s injuries weren’t consistent with being hit and Jarvis had clearly said ‘an accident’.  The private rooms weren’t directly monitored but the AI was primed to detect and react to any dangerous or hostile activity in or around the Penthouse.  If someone were physically assaulted an alert should have sounded.

He needed to find out what Thor thought had happened and then hear what Ainsley had to say. 

He poured Thor and himself a drink.  Ginger ale.  Putting alcohol into the Asgardian just now felt like a colossally bad idea and his antibiotics meant he couldn’t drink no matter how much he needed one.

“Right. What happened tonight?”

Thor drained his glass.  He wasn’t crying right now but there was still something dull and heavy about his words and movements

“I told you. I hit him.”

This was going around in circles, he needed to push a couple of buttons.

“That doesn’t help me much man.  Did you guys have a fight? I know things have been pretty tense”

Something about the positioning of the room fell into place; Ainsley was a small guy, 5’7” or so and slight, if he’d been bending down beside the couch then the table would have been just a few feet away from him and behind his head. 

“Was Doc trying to make up and you smacked him away?  Easy for a big guy like you to forget his strength when he’s pissed off”

“NO!” Thor was hoarse with shock and anguish “I would never lift my hand to Ainsley in anger. Such a thing would be unforgivable.  Do you think I am capable of such an act?”

Clint kept his voice firm and steady.  There was strong evidence against an act of violence but the years of abuse he’d grown up with made him sensitive to the possibility of it.  He wasn’t going to rule any option out until he was convinced. 

“No Thor.  No I don’t think you would do that, but I can’t let myself be certain until you snap out of this and tell me exactly what happened.”

Thor’s dropped his gaze.  His breathing slowing down and his posture relaxing.  Clint crouched in front of him and took hold of his hands.

“Talk to me, Big Blond.  Tell me what’s going on”

The distressed warrior looked back up at him. 

“I have been having an evil dream.  That is why I am sleeping on the couch, so as not to disturb Ainsley.”

Clint sat down beside him, feeling a surge of nausea in his stomach.  The Big Blond always seemed so solid and confident.  He hadn’t imagined there might be a lot more more going on behind the Asgardian’s open, friendly, face.

_Or maybe I just couldn’t be bothered taking the time to notice_

“When did this start?”

“I have had it for over a year now, perhaps once or twice a month, more often if my heart is troubled; but since you were taken it has been almost every night.”

Thor had spoken to him about the guilt he felt at not trying harder to find him, about leaving him to be captured.  He’d tried to convince Big Blond that he’d done exactly the right thing but maybe he hadn’t taken on board how much his friend blamed himself for what had happened.

“Can you remember the dream?”

“It is always the same.  I am back when I first arrived, stripped of my powers, and taken captive.  In this dream, I am handed over to the interrogators.  I have no answers to give them so the pain never stops.  Every night it is worse and I believe I deserve this for causing my father’s death.”

Thor was shaking again, the colour draining from him.  The horror he had woken from was nothing compared to the guilt and shame he felt at injuring his lover.  Whether unintended or not, he had done an inexcusable thing.

Clint had never stopped to think about what would have happened to the Big Blond if Coulson hadn’t made the call to let him go.  His job was to take a man down or take him out depending on orders.  What came after that was left to others.  The ‘Special Interrogation’ teams; well, they weren’t fussy about how they got an answer or how long it took.  Blondie would have had gone through an extended waking nightmare before they finally decided to put a bullet in his head or dump what was left of him in a cell somewhere.

They’d all thought that Phil had gone crazy, releasing him to Erik Selvig on the strength of a fake ID and a lame-ass excuse.  He’d just done that whole ‘trust me on this one’ routine he was so good at.  Maybe he saw something in the guy that made him realise the game wasn’t what it seemed. 

_Like he saw something in me_

He filled a glass with whiskey and thrust it at Thor, this was going to need something stronger than ginger ale.  He just wished he could have one himself.  The thought of what might have happened to his friend turned his stomach.  Finding out this had been preying on Thor’s mind for so long disturbed him more than he wanted to admit

“Drink!” he ordered

The big man swallowed it down in a single gulp, gasping as the fire hit the back of his throat

“So how did Doc get hurt?”

Thor grasped his hand and held it tight

“Tonight, it was the worst of all.  It felt like I was being torn apart and the more I cried out the greater the pain they inflicted.  It was… degrading, agonising, beyond my capacity to bear.  I broke the restraint on my wrist and struck out to drive them away, to make them stop what they were doing.”

He paused, forcing himself to breathe

“I was woken by a noise and I saw Ainsley there” he pointed to the coffee table “He must have heard me in pain and come through to help me. When I struck, I caught him instead.”

He began to cry again, burying his face in his hands.  Clint put his arms around the stricken man, suddenly feeling like the biggest shit in the world.  All those times that Thor had made mention of his own inner pain yet the conversation always turned back to what was going on in the train-wreck of Barton’s life after a token pat on the back for the big guy.  That was Thor all the way though, first up in a firefight but too ready to go to the back of the queue in the aftermath, when the real hurts had to be dealt with.  He’d been happy to let Doc deal with all that mess while he just enjoyed the sex and a shoulder to cry on.

He should have known better by now.  The big tough ones often had it worst because everyone expected them to suck it up and move on.  That’d been him for years, Clint the joker; had to be fine because he had the smartass comeback for every situation.  Maybe he should’ve spent more time being the friend Thor thought he was.

_You’ve been a bad friend, Hawkeye, but there’s something you can do just now_

He dug in his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“Hey, Big Blond!” He nudged Thor in the ribs and he looked up, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  Clint took out a business card and handed it to him

“Give Dr Osario a call in the morning and make an appointment.  Promise me you’ll do that first thing?”

“You have my word”

He knew about this doctor who Clint had gone to for help. Ainsley had spoken well of her skills and he could tell that his lover was gently hinting he should speak to her also.  He had dismissed this idea in his head, telling himself he was strong enough to face the demons in his sleep. 

Hawkeye put his arm back around the shaking Asgardian.

“I’m sorry, man.  I know how much you love Ainsley; you’d never want to hurt him.  The things we’ve been through can fuck with a guy’s mind, make him do or say things he’d never do otherwise.  Ainsley’s kind and clever but this is stuff he’s not trained to handle and we shouldn’t expect him to.”

He looked down and sighed, remembering Laura

“I screwed up my marriage because I thought I was tough enough to deal with what happened to me, put the woman I loved through hell before she had enough and threw me out.  It’d kill me to see the same thing happen to you two.”

Thor tried to smile

“I will not let that happen.” He put his hand on Clint’s “I have you, my worthy friend; and I shall speak to this good doctor tomorrow.  I will find out how she can help me with these evil imaginings.”

The door opened.  It was Ainsley.  The young doctor had a plaster on his earlobe but appeared otherwise fine.  Thor looked up at him, his voice shaking

“Ainsley, I am sorry.  Forgive me, I am so sorry.  I did not mean to hurt you…”

Ainsley sat beside his lover and took his face in his hands

“Babe.  You didn’t hit me.”  The two men stared at him.  He could see Thor didn’t believe him, probably thought he was just saying that to calm him down.  Clint seemed thoughtful, as if considering possibilities.

“I woke up hearing Thor having a nightmare. Normally I wouldn’t disturb someone when they’re in that state but it sounded like you were in real physical pain and it scared me.  I shook your shoulder and you punched the couch, hard.  I got a fright and fell back into the coffee table.  I hit my head on the edge and cut my earlobe.  That’s where all the blood came from.”

He pushed back some of the tangled hair from Thor’s face and kissed him

“Poor Snuggie-Bear; Bruce said you looked absolutely terrified.” He took Thor’s hand and placed it against the side of his head. “See, just a little bump, not even cut.  Bruce says I should let him know if I have any dizziness or nausea over the next couple of days but otherwise I’m fine.”

Ainsley noticed the look on Clint’s face, the lingering suspicion.

“You can see the mark where he punched it.  I’m surprised it’s not broken”

Clint looked where Ainsley was pointing, he hadn’t noticed it previously because of where Thor was sitting.  There was a deep dent in the upholstery.  He tried not to think what would have happened if that had hit the doctor.

“You truly just fell?” asked Thor, Ainsley nodded in confirmation. The warrior felt relieved but still upset.  He had not struck his lover as he feared, but it was still his actions that had caused him to be injured. He showed Ainsley the card Clint had given him

“I will speak to this doctor tomorrow and ask her to help me.” He paused; when he spoke again his voice was quiet and hesitant

“Perhaps Clint would let you stay with him for a while….  Until my dreams are less terrible.”

Ainsley leaned over and kissed him tenderly

“I’m going to stay with you and help you through this” he reached over and took Clint’s hand “it’s our turn to be your rock.  If your dream gets that bad again I promise I won’t come near, I’ll get Jarvis to wake you instead.”

He looked at them both with a fond smile

“Besides, you’ve not seen the state of Clint’s bathroom!”

The pair of them put Thor to bed and sat with him as he fell asleep.  In his exhausted state, it didn’t take long.  Ainsley wasn’t in the mood to go back to sleep for a while, so after they were sure Thor wasn’t going to wake any time soon they went up to the living room.  Ainsley instructed Jarvis to keep a watch on his lover’s vital signs and inform them if he started exhibiting any signs of physical or mental distress.

Despite the early hour, it still felt quite warm.  It would be dawn before much longer.  Ainsley lit a cigarette and offered one to Clint.  He didn’t usually smoke tobacco these days but felt the night deserved one.  He took a long draw and exhaled slowly. Ainsley glanced across at him

“You know, stick you in a cowboy hat and a check shirt and you’d pass for the Marlboro Man.”

The archer laughed and cranked up his soft Iowa drawl

“Well, shucks Doc! If you wanna see ol’ Clint in cowboy gear, just wait till these here brands’ve healed up and I’ll give you the Barton Rodeo treatment!”

Ainsley smiled and took his hand

“Just so long as there aren’t clowns.” His face became serious again “Did Thor tell you about The Dream?”

Clint took another long draw

“Yeah.  I didn’t think what happened in New Mexico affected him that much.”

The doctor sighed heavily and Clint could see the strain and distress in his face.

“He told me he was prepared to accept whatever happened to him there as some kind of punishment for the death of his father.  Now he’s punishing himself for failing his mother and all the other things he thinks he’s done wrong.  Deep down he believes if he’d treated Loki differently none of this would have happened; the betrayals, Agent Coulson’s death, the invasion…”

It never occurred to Clint that the Big Blond could or would feel that depth of responsibility.    He felt sick at how much he’d underestimated what both his friends were going through, and how much it must have cost Thor to allow the one man who did understand to spend so much time with another.

“…I’m glad you got him to agree to speak to Louise.  Post-Traumatic Stress isn’t my field of expertise, even if it was I don’t have the degree of objectivity necessary to give him the help he needs.”

Clint swallowed hard

“Doc, I’ve been so caught up in my own stuff I’d no idea things were that bad for him.  Maybe I shoulda paid more attention.   You’ve both done so much for me, now it’s kinda time for me to step up and be there properly for the pair of you.”

Ainsley lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it

“Thanks, he’s going to need both of us.”

He went quiet, looking out towards the horizon where the first hints of pre-dawn light were appearing.  Clint could guess what the doctor was thinking.  Ainsley’s political ethics were broadly liberal, non-partisan.  He wasn’t naïve about the hard realities of the world, or what organisations like SHIELD sometimes had to do in the belief they were protecting others, but the archer knew there were limits to what he deemed acceptable.

“It really would have been that bad, wouldn’t it?”

Clint nodded, not wanting to make eye contact just now

“Yeah.  Probably worse.  Those Spec Int guys creep everyone out, even Fury.  Phil couldn’t stand being in the same room with any of them.  I don’t know where they’re recruited but I’m guessing it’s some place that don’t allow metal cutlery.”

Ainsley rubbed his eyes, tiredness starting to creep back up on him.  He’d seen the sort of men Hawkeye was talking about.  There’d been a group of them eating together that day he’d been in Washington and Maria Hill had taken him for lunch at the Triskelion.  Even in the crowded restaurant no-one seemed keen to take the tables nearby.

They looked at each other in the growing morning light.  It was a standing joke that Clint had ‘resting murder face’ but it didn’t seem funny to Ainsley right now.   The man’s face was cold and impassive, his eyes hard and appraising.  He could imagine him looking like this as he chose the moment to take that one perfect shot.  It was impossible to tell whether a mask had been dropped or raised.  He lowered his gaze and sighed heavily

“We’ve dragged you into our world, Doc, and I’m sorry.”

Ainsley put his hand up to Clint’s face and stroked his cheek with his thumb.  It was one of the doctor’s tells, a gesture for when he found it hard to express the depths of his affections in words.

“I wasn’t dragged anywhere Clint.  It’s where I choose to be.  I’m not going to pretend that I like a lot of the things SHIELD does but I’m not with them.  I’m with Thor, you and our friends.”

He lifted Clint’s face so he was looking him in the eyes again

“I don’t like what you have to do, even though I understand why.  What I hate a is world where these   things must be done but I believe that the Avengers are about trying to change that, which is why I’m here with you. It’s Clint Barton I love, no matter what the job he must do; maybe not the same way I love Thor but certainly not any less.  I’m not planning on letting go of either of you any time soon.”

He pulled the bigger man forward and kissed him hungrily…

“Wow” gasped Clint as he refastened his pants a few minutes later “That was… unexpected!”

Ainsley ran his hands through his hair and straightened his own clothes.  The sudden, fierce desire had taken them both unawares.

“Unexpected, but very welcome… Marlboro Man!”

The archer grinned, that sure beat ‘Snuggie Bear” as a pet name.

“You’d better get some sleep, Doc.  Tash’ll be expecting you at the firing range 10am sharp.”

###

Thor woke a couple of hours later.  The sleep had been deep and dreamless and he felt physically better although still troubled by the memory of what he thought he had done earlier that night.  He was surprised and happy to find Ainsley curled up in bed beside him.  He hated being on the couch, waking up without that comforting presence next to him. 

Sleep would not come for him again tonight so he moved closer, careful of not waking his lover.  Ainsley mumbled something in his sleep and automatically nestled in, resting his head on the Asgardian’s massive bicep.  Thor kissed him lightly on the cheek and lay back on the pillow, watching the room slowly grow brighter with the rising sun.

 

 

 


	11. For My Next Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline: Mid-August 2013 Roughly a week and a half after Demons of the Mind
> 
> Natasha and Ainsley visit Hawkeye’s old trainer in the search for information about Barney Barton. What they discover is an unwelcome surprise.  
> Steve provides tea and sympathy for a distressed Clint.  
> Ainsley proves himself a match for Director Fury while Director Fury may know more about the psychologist’s background than he does.
> 
> Comments, reviews and constructive feedback welcome

He could never be sure of much these days, but one thing he was certain about; Mr and Mrs Jarman from New York weren’t who they said they were.  They were nice, sure enough, had brought him a bottle of real good Scotch whiskey.  Mrs Jarman had given him a DVD with footage of his appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1970.  Where she’d found that the Good Lord only knew.

Mr Jarman used a lot of fancy words but the long and the short of it was that the couple had some big thing about the old-style circuses and carnival sideshows.  Some long-winded shit about ‘an authentic American cultural phenomenon’

Nice, maybe, but that meant they wanted something and the old carney wasn’t sure what.  Still, outside visitors were few and far between and he hadn’t got anything planned this afternoon; or any time of day or night for that matter, other than not-so-slowly dying in this nursing home that smelled of piss and wet dough. 

He’d spent a lifetime reading marks and these were the smart sort you played careful for the long con or left well enough alone. 

Rich in the understated way that said Wealth rather than shouted Money.  The man was small, slight and wiry, in a well-cut linen suit and open necked shirt.  Italian shoes too, hand stitched; a watch that was probably ten times more expensive than it looked and round-rimmed glasses with thin gold frames.  A Brit with a fruity voice, probably a homo but difficult to tell for sure.

The woman was what they used to call ‘petite’, not much more than 5’4” or 5” but fit and toned.  Red haired and 1940’s chic in a tailored summer pantsuit; silk, like her blouse.  Looked like real diamonds set in an arrow shaped broach.  He liked that, wondered if she’d picked it out special for this visit.  Came across a bit like a young Katherine Hepburn.   European but been in the States long enough that he couldn’t place her accent.  If they were married he’d bet good money it was one of those fancy ‘arrangements’ that allowed them to have their own fun when and with who they wanted.

They both looked like they could have stepped straight out of some old black and white movie. 

_And the moment they first appeared on screen, I’d think ‘Spies’_

He took as deep a lungful from the oxygen tank as he could manage

“So, why’re a coupla rich New York folks like you out here in the asshole of nowhere visiting an old wreck like me?”

Mr Jarman smiled and poured him some more whiskey.  The guy poured a good measure, that was a point in his favour.

“Mr Chisholm, you had such an unusual act.  Trick archery on its own is uncommon in the circus.  Combined with acrobatics and high wire work its unheard of and almost entirely undocumented.  That one where you hit a bullseye with a flaming arrow while in mid-air is unique.  If I hadn’t seen the photographs in Carnaki’s “History of the American Big Top” and the Ed Sullivan footage I would never have believed it possible.”

The old man started to laugh but ended up coughing with a coarse, wet wheezing noise.  He took another lungful of oxygen and a mouthful of whiskey.  Hell, he didn’t trust these two further than he could walk without passing out, but the fruity Brit sounded genuinely appreciative and it was kinda good to think there might still be someone out there who remembered the old Trickshot magic.

“Well if it’s memories you want I got a coupla albums full sitting under the bed.  If you got another bottle of this stuff in your car they’re yours.  Not much good to me and there’s no-one I got to give them to”

Mr Jarman smiled warmly

“Mr Chisholm, for that I’ll have a whole case sent down to you.”

Mrs Jarman spoke, she’d been pretty quiet so far, kept glancing at the picture on top of the TV when she thought he wasn’t looking. 

“Did you never think of taking an apprentice?  I understood that used to be quite usual, especially with a one-off act like yours.”

Chisolm cleared his throat and spat into a bucket beside his chair

“’scuse me. Ain’t polite in front of a lady I know, but I don’t swallow too good these days” She made a graceful ‘don’t worry’ gesture. “Did take one some years back, never worked out.  That’s him in the photo with me on the TV.  The one you can’t take your eyes off.”

_Hah, that surprised her_

“Bring it over if you want.”

She got up and fetched it for him.  It was damn fine watching her move, dance training for sure but something else as well, like one of them black panthers you saw prowling in their cages.

_She’s dangerous_

There were two people in the photo.  Chisholm, dark haired and handsome in his late 40’s, and a brown haired teenage boy with blue-grey eyes and a lop-sided grin.  They were both in some sort of Robin Hood costumes with quivers on their backs and bows on their shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s me back when I was Trickshot” He winked at them “Not bad huh?  Still had the ladies lining up.  That’s the boy I was training.  Was going to be a double act, Trickshot and Hawk.  Just Hawk eventually I suppose but then he ran off…”

The old man’s voice tailed off, full of regret.  He was surprised to see the man pull out a handkerchief and wipe his eyes.  The handkerchief was monogrammed. AWK.

_Mr Jarman, my ass!_

The woman was still looking intently at the photograph and Chisholm realised

“You’re here about Clint, aren’t you?”

Another bout of coughing caught him and ‘Mr Jarman’ refilled his glass and sat, waiting for the old man to settle down.

“He in some kinda trouble?”

These guys weren’t cops or feds, not with those clothes.  Too well-mannered to be mobsters, leastwise regular ones, unless the mob in New York or wherever they were from was being run by uptown Euro types these days.  Maybe Clint had fixed up with these folks and done them out of something or robbed them, but people with the type of money they had didn’t do their own dirty work.  Something else was going on here

“It’s about his brother, Barney” the woman admitted “we think he might be trying to hurt Clint and we want to stop him”

“That little shit?” The old man spat, contemptuously this time. “Wouldn’t surprise me much.  I always thought him and that Frenchie sword-swallower were up to no good.”

“They said Clint had run away.”  Something in the way ‘Mr Jarman’ said it registered with Chisholm. He was being told, rather than asked.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

The woman uncrossed her ankles and sat forward

“Clint found out that Jacques Duquesne was stealing from the circus.  He told Barney and was going to tell you, but Duquesne got to him first and beat him almost to death.  Then he and Barney dumped him in ditch somewhere.”

He tried to say something that might have been “Those Fucker’s!” but it collapsed into a prolonged bout of coughing.  He gestured to the table beside the couch and ‘Mr Jarman’ handed him his pills and a glass of water.  The couple waited for the fit to subside.

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve trusted a word they said, but I was too broke up by Clint going off to think straight for a while.  Jacques was as twisted as a corkscrew and Barney was just plain bad.  Something wrong about that kid”

He straightened up in his seat.

“Right.  Why don’t you folks tell me who you really are and what Clint is to you before I say another word.”

Ainsley glanced at Tasha.  The man was sharp despite his illness and they were prepared for this moment.  They’d discussed this between themselves and Clint once they’d found out that Chisholm was still alive.  It was a risk but Clint wanted to take it.

She opened her bag.  Chisholm though for a moment she was taking out a gun but instead she placed a small plastic action figure on the table.  It was one of these toys he kept seeing advertised on daytime TV; ‘Avengers of New York’ or some shit like that.  With no grandkids to pester him for them he’d never paid much attention. 

This one was a brown-haired man with a bow and wraparound shades, in a low crouching stance poised to release an arrow; one leg bent to the side, the other stretched out in front.  The whole body a taut, elegant curve.  He recognized the stance, with one easy move you could go into a flying somersault and land ready to shoot again.  It was one of his. He’d only ever taught it to one person.  He picked it up and looked at it for a long time, then he looked at Tasha.  One of them toys had been a woman, he remembered, with red hair.

There were photographs as well; a tall, lean, brown haired man with blue-grey eyes and a lopsided grin.  The man and woman were in some of them.  The brown-haired man and a big blond dude fooling about by a pool with water pistols. They all looked relaxed and happy, like old and trusting friends.

“Is that my Clint?” He managed to ask at last.

“He calls himself Hawkeye; you taught him well, Mr Chisholm” Ainsley said, taking out his business card and handing it to Chisholm “My name’s Ainsley Kerr, I work closely with Clint and the others.  He’s a very dear friend of mine and he would very much like to see you again if you’re willing.”

“Course I’m willing!” the old man choked, then he looked up at Ainsley with the wicked Trickshot glint the doctor recognized from the photos “He’s banging one of you, or both of you, ain’t he?”

Ainsley smiled, giving a slight shrug

“We have what you might call a very modern friendship.”

Chisholm cleared his throat again and chuckled. 

“Hell, I was never that bothered myself back in the day.  A nice ass is a nice ass.  So, what do you think I can tell you?  Not seen Barney for about 10 years.  Jacques left the circus when he started to get sick and went to Florida. Barney took off a couple of years after with Tina, the card reader’s daughter….”

 He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at them both

“Aww Fuck! He won’t know about the kid, will he?”

Natasha and Ainsley looked at each other in shock and then back at Chisholm

“Are you telling us that Clint has a child?” Natasha was stunned.  This was a complication no-one had anticipated.  The old man nodded

“We all thought that’s why he left.  Tina was only 16 and Noreen kept her on a tight lead but Clint had been sniffing round her like lovesick puppy-dog, giving her presents and such.  When she started showing not long after he disappeared it seemed obvious.  Barney hooked up with her just before the kid was born, said he was going to be the man his brother wasn’t if you can believe that crap.  If you ask me, Barney wanted her for himself all along, maybe that’s why he was so happy to be rid of him”

Chisholm saw the unasked question in the doctor’s eyes

“It was a boy.  Her Ma tried to get her to get rid of it but Tina wasn’t having none of that.  Insisted on keeping him.  Called him Clint to spite her I think, Barney sure as hell didn’t like that either.  He’d just turned 7 when they left.  Said they were going to Nevada, that Barney had some kinda kin there.  Whether they did or not I can’t rightly tell you.”

There was a knock on the door.  It was the care assistant who had shown them to Chisholm’s room.

“Excuse me, visiting hours are just about over”

Ainsley nodded

“Thank you, we’re almost ready to leave”

_And I’m just about ready to have a panic attack_

“So, you gonna tell him?” Chisholm asked once the nurse left.  Tasha nodded

“We have to, he has a right to know” The old man thought for a moment then gestured to Ainsley

“Get the big red album out from under the bed willya?”

Ainsley handed it to him and he leafed through it, finally pulling out what he was looking for.  A polaroid photograph of a pretty, red haired girl in jeans and a Mexican blouse, holding a plump baby in a bright blue romper suit.

“That’s the only one I’ve got of Tina and the kid; figure he should have it.” He looked at them both “I still got some contacts in the carney world.  They can find out stuff that an outsider wouldn’t get near to.  I’ll put out some feelers if you do one thing for me.”

“What’s that?” asked Natasha.  Trickshot winked at her

“Give an old man a kiss from the Lady Avenger?”   She bent over him and kissed him like they’d been lovers for years.

They said goodbye to the old man, promising to come back with Clint as soon as possible.  Neither of them spoke as they left the nursing home and walked to Natasha’s car

Ainsley enjoyed a much-needed cigarette in the afternoon sun while she sat in the car and screamed her frustration out.  It would be a long drive back to New York. 

He called Tony before they left, Tasha hated distractions of any sort when she was driving, arranging for Jarvis to run a search of county medical and school records to try and verify the old man’s story and see what trace of the boy could be found in the systems. 

If he was still alive he would be 17 now.  Red hair was a recessive gene so in colouring he would probably take after the father’s side.  He wondered what sort of a father Clint would have been

_Highly dysfunctional but there when it counted_

His phone pinged as they passed Newark.  It was already getting towards late evening.  A boy, Clint Abel, had been born to Tina Walsh in Louisville on 8th January 1996; the place and time Chisholm had told them.  No father’s name listed.  There were intermittent records of vaccinations and routine childhood medical treatments across the Midwest and the eastern seaboard.  It would be relatively easy to correlate those with the movements of the circus.

_At least someone was making sure the boy got basic medical care. Abel! Whose idea was that?_

The trail went cold from the point when Chisholm said the couple had moved to Nevada.  There was no record of a Clint Abel Walsh in the Nevada school or welfare system. They didn’t have a surname for Clint’s Aunt Adie and Tony had obviously thought better than to try and get those details from the archer just yet.  No records of a Tina Walsh or a Tina Barton either; that gave Ainsley a cold chill.  He hoped they had just never gone to Nevada or not stayed there long, perhaps changed their names, but the darker possibilities refused to be banished from his mind.

_Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi…_

“Are you asking for mercy or peace, Ainsley?” He must have been thinking aloud again

“We could do with a little of both I think” He lapsed back into thoughtful silence and Natasha returned her attention to the road. 

###

Clint breathed hard and fast through his nose, staring at the photograph in his hands.  He’d been anxious all day, worse after the phone call from Doc that Stark had taken in private.  He’d known who it was from the ringtone; Tony had a different one for each of them, Ainsley’s was ‘Rule Britannia’.  For the rest of the afternoon the billionaire’s bonhomie had been forced, manic, the way it always was when he tried to pretend that bad shit hadn’t just happened. 

All he could think was that Trick was sicker than they’d said, that maybe he hadn’t wanted to see them or didn’t want to see him.  Doc and Tash had got home just after 11 looking exhausted and strained.  Tash asked to speak to him downstairs in his apartment, that meant it had to be bad.  He could see the pain in Doc’s eyes and the look that passed between him and Tony.

He remembered the Mexican blouse.  Josefina the contortionist had given it to Tina as a birthday present and she thought it was the nicest thing she had, wore it for all the special occasions.  She always looked real pretty in it, with her hair up and that necklace with the green stones he’d told her were emeralds.  He knew the kid was his.  He’d been her first and only, like she was his, and she’d told him she was late not long before he got his appointment with Duquesne and the baseball bat.  He’d always thought her evil old bitch of a mother would have stuck her in a hot bath with a bottle of gin. 

She’d called him Clint.  Maybe deep down she knew he never woulda run out on her, that something bad had happened she could never prove.  He’d been like a wounded animal after getting dragged out the ditch by those hunters, too full of hurt to do anything other than lick his wounds and bite at anyone that came near.  By the time that Coulson and SHIELD had turned him into the sort of man who could go back to look they would already be gone.

Sitting there in his hands was the family that had been stolen from him. 

Tash had left him to himself a little while ago.  He’d promised her he’d still be there in the morning; wouldn’t do anything stupid.  She’d made him pinky-swear.  You didn’t break a pinky-swear with Tash or the docs would need to do rectal surgery to retrieve your hands before they could sew them back on.

He packed his fletching equipment in its case and put it outside the door, along with his bow-cases, quivers, laptop and, as an afterthought, the Hawkeye plushie that Thor had bought to say thanks for being there for him the night Ainsley got hurt.  He placed the photo on top of the pile then closed the door.  Clint walked over to the sideboard and picked up that big-ass green glass vase he really hated.  He carefully tested it for weight and balance then hurled it at the mirror, screaming with the full force of his lungs.

###

Steve sat outside Clint’s room, reading.  He’d volunteered to keep watch and let the others get some sleep, although he doubted any of them would be having an easy night.  Thor had offered to keep him company, of course, but he’d pretty much ordered him to go to bed.  The big warrior had enough stuff of his own to deal with right now.

The screaming and breaking noises had stopped a while ago.  Part of him wished they hadn’t, they were easier to deal with than the painful sobbing that followed.  Eventually that faded away too.  He marked his place with a bookmark and laid the book square on the seat of the chair so it wouldn’t get damaged or dirty.  It was a collection of modern short stories that Dr Kerr had loaned him.  Mama had taught him always to be extra careful with other people’s things. 

He knocked on the door.  A hoarse voice from inside replied

“Watch your step.  There’s a bit of a mess.”

Steve pushed the door open, hearing it crunch against bits of glass, plastic and wood.  Clint sat in the far corner with his back to the wall.  Anything in the apartment that could be broken, torn, ripped or smashed had been.  He looked up as the soldier entered, eyes red-rimmed, forcing a grin. 

“Hey Cap! Can I crash at yours tonight?  I kinda broke my bed.”

They walked together in silence down the corridor to Steve’s place.  Clint hadn’t been in Steve’s apartment for a while and it was different from how he remembered.  While the soldier made them both tea he sat on the couch and looked around.  The antiseptic hotel art had been cleared out, replaced by framed 1930’s and 40’s movie posters together with a few good quality art-prints, M C Esher mainly.  He remembered there’d been an exhibition a few weeks ago, that Ainsley and Pepper had taken Cap along to.  What he hadn’t expected were the airplane models, a dozen or more hanging from the ceiling or sitting on display stands. There was a half completed one of a Quinjet on the table, plastic parts, brushes and paints neatly arranged beside it.

He took the tea Steve offered.  Chamomile; that must be something Pepper had got him into.  She was big on herbal teas and all that stuff. 

“You do all these yourself, Cap?”  He was impressed, the work was precise and skilful, not a brushstroke out of place.

“It’s been my hobby since I was a kid.” Steve arranged a couple of coasters on the table “Used to save every spare cent I had to buy one of the kits; never managed to afford more than one good one a year but Mama would always buy me one for Christmas as well.  There’s a couple of them up there.”

On one of the shelves, two faded models of 1930s aircraft sat beside a framed photograph of a small, thin woman in a floral dress.

“Mama left everything to the museum when she died back in ‘68.  Agent Hill helped me track down a few pieces after I moved in here.”  He took the photo off the shelf and handed it to Clint.  The woman in the picture had the look of someone who had worked hard all her life for nothing very much but her smile was kind and there was a warmth in her eyes.  He gave it back to Steve

“She looks real nice” She must have looked much like that the last time Cap saw her.  For him that was not much more than 3 years ago, although she’d been dead for over 40.

The bigger man nodded, carefully wiping a few specs of dust from the glass with the sleeve of his shirt.  Clint could see his chin tremble slightly

“I miss her.”

Clint felt something resolve itself inside him.  They’d all had the families and lives they should have had destroyed or torn away from them one way or another.  He could drive himself mad chasing the ghosts of what might have been or he could accept that these broken basket cases he lived with were the only real family he’d got.  He looked up at the soldier as he placed his Mama’s picture back on its spot.

“I’m with you guys, Cap” Steve came out of his reverie and turned to face him “If you want to go after Barney and the boy I’ll be there 100% but if you want to leave if to the field team I’m not going to go off on my own.  I’ve had one family stolen from me, I’m not going to lose another because of that bastard.”

Steve sat down beside the archer and put an arm around his shoulders.  It was what he’d been hoping to hear and was glad it had come unprompted. 

“We’ll find your son, one way or another.  I don’t know what’ll come after that but I promise you we’ll find him for you.”

Clint nodded his thanks.  Steve seemed to be thinking about something.

“You off those antibiotics?”

“Yeah, for about a week” replied the archer. “Why?”

The soldier patted him on the back

“Because tomorrow night; you, me and Thor are going to take Stark up on his challenge to drink the cellar dry.”

###

Ainsley deeply disliked the New York Field Office. It occupied the top three floors of a nondescript office block and had a harsh, unpleasant air to it; like the offices of a disreputable insurance company or cut-price call centre.  It smelled stale and the coffee was bad.  Fury asking to see him here, rather than coming to the Penthouse was intended as a clear sign of displeasure.  He could sense the hostile glares some of the agents gave him. 

The SHIELD Director received him in the Senior Field Agents office, Agent Hill was with him which the doctor found interesting.  Normally Fury preferred to deliver his rebukes in private. 

The Director stood, facing out the window although the view was far less appealing than the one from his office at the Triskelion.  Ainsley sat as comfortably as he could in a metal and plastic chair on the far side of the desk.

“I take it, Dr Kerr, that you’re aware of how serious an offence you’ve committed by possessing and disseminating highly classified information?”

Ainsley was determined to remain unfazed.  Tony had told him about the Director’s phone call when they got back yesterday evening.  He’d been expecting it before now to be honest, although in retrospect the timing was perfect.

“Absolutely, Director Fury. As I imagine you were when you arranged for me to be provided with that information.”

He noted the slight change in the Director’s posture.  The man was still facing out of the window but the doctor was sure he was smiling.  He glanced over at Agent Hill.  The woman had a good poker face but he detected a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“That’s quite an assumption you’re making, Doctor” Fury’s voice remained resolutely unamused.  Ainsley decided to go for the throat

“Nick, we both know at that level access is by need-to-know only.  The one person to have unrestricted access to that file would be the Field Officer in charge of the case.  As the situation involves not only the Avengers Team but also the close relative of an agent and contraband technology you would have put one of your most trusted people in charge.”

He winked at Maria Hill who was now biting her lip trying not to laugh.  Only Dr Kerr would have the audacity to address the SHIELD Director by his first name.  She had met the doctor on just a few occasions, mainly at the Academy or the Triskelion.  A lot of the senior agents mistrusted him, seeing him as frivolous, tainted by his connection to Barton, but she had taken an immediate liking to the young psychologist; sensing the strength of will that lay underneath the deceptively prissy exterior and appreciating his incisive wit.  Watching him square off against Fury was like seeing a pedigree puppy challenging a junkyard dog and getting away with it.

“Continue” was all Fury said

_Got you_

“Either one of your senior agents is not to be trusted or he had your approval for his actions, whether explicit or implicit is really no matter.  I trust your judgement enough to prefer the latter option.”

He cocked his head slightly

“This was my ‘defining moment’ wasn’t it?  You wanted to see if I was willing to plunge into the heart of darkness or remain content on the outside.  I suspect you also wanted to determine if my loyalties lay with SHIELD or the Avengers?”

Fury’s shoulders dropped slightly and he turned around.  Pulling out his wallet he removed a $50-dollar bill and handed it to the other agent.

“Your suspicion is quite correct, Dr Kerr, and you have proven your willingness and your loyalties quite clearly, as well as your abilities.  We had assumed you would follow up the Jacques Duquesne lead; heading off in the direction of Buck Chisholm was an unexpected tangent.  That gentleman had not figured significantly in our equations to date.”

Ainsley gave the Director a withering look. 

“Travelling to Florida would have attracted too much attention; besides Duquesne has developed severe dementia so his usefulness would be limited even if he were inclined to be helpful.  Once we had established our bona-fides with Mr Chisholm, however, he provided some very valuable information which could have come to light earlier if he had figured in your ‘equations’”

“Such as?” The acid tone of annoyance in the doctor’s voice was clear to them both.

“Clint’s son.”

It wasn’t often you got to surprise the SHIELD Director.  Ainsley was going to cherish this moment.  Agent Hill spoke up while her boss processed this information

“There’s nothing about that in the intelligence”

The doctor shrugged

“Clint didn’t know about it himself until yesterday evening.  It’s safe to say he took it as well as you can imagine under the circumstances.”

Fury looked up from his thoughts and held out his hand to Agent Hill who passed him a tablet.

“How old would the boy be now?”

Ainsley gave the Director a questioning look

“About 17 and a half, if he’s still alive. Why?”

Fury passed him the tablet.

“These pictures were sent through by a field agent in West Virginia shortly before we lost contact with him”

The pictures had been taken at a gas station by a wooded road.  They showed a broad-built hard-faced man in a woollen jacket with a skinny, stern-looking, teenage boy.  The boy’s hair was brown but with a reddish tinge and the eyes looked bluish-grey.

The conversation continued for some time, Ainsley providing them with all the information they had gathered to date and a few other possible leads they had uncovered; advising the Director that the team needed to be assigned to some form of active duty as soon as possible, preferably one that put some physical distance between them and the case.

They’d discussed the matter at length over breakfast.  It was plain that the case had become so personal and close to home they would have to defer to Fury otherwise their own lack of objectivity risked damaging the bigger investigation, even Tony had agreed eventually.  Clint had been silent mostly, willing to abide by whatever the others decided.  It wasn’t exactly a ‘fix everything with a group hug’ scenario, but they had all left the table with a sense of unanimity they’d been missing for a while. 

Agent Hill escorted Ainsley out and re-joined her boss as he packed up his briefcase.

“He does have a remarkable talent” she observed

Fury gave one of his rare smiles

“His grandmother was the same apparently, seems to run in the family.  Professor Feldermann told me back in the ‘40s they nicknamed her ‘The Witch’.”


	12. Breathing Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline Late August 2013
> 
> After the tensions of the past few weeks the team have a rare opportunity to relax.   
> Thor and Ainsley have the chance to redefine their own relationship while Clint and Tasha take time out for themselves.  
> For once an enjoyable evening is had by all, without anyone being kidnapped, shot at, tortured or traumatised (except possibly Steve Rogers).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Homo-eroticism and discussion of sexual dynamics.

Thor gave a deep rumbling moan of pleasure as Ainsley’s hands worked their way down to where the small of his back met the curve of his butt.  He raised his hips and spread his legs a little wider, wordlessly inviting his lover to continue the massage further south.  Ainsley smiled, running his fingertips lightly along the valley of the Asgardian’s spine, knowing how much he enjoyed the tickling sensation.

The aromatherapy massage oils had been a gift from Pepper to help Thor sleep.  Ainsley was privately dubious about her enthusiasm for ‘alternative’ therapies but it was a kind, thoughtful, gesture and couldn’t hurt.  To be fair there hadn’t been any nightmares for the past four nights; whether that was due to the lavender and chamomile oils or just the sense of comfort and well-being induced by the physical contact didn’t matter at all.

It hadn’t escaped the doctor’s attention that Thor had been a little more relaxed without Clint around.  The archer was due to have a medical check-up at the end of the month that would determine if he were fit to return to duty and Tasha had decided to take him away for a few days’ holiday and a chance to begin dealing properly with the discovery that he had a son out there somewhere.  They could be anywhere from Antarctica to Disneyworld, no-one other than Steve and Fury knew.

Despite his generosity in allowing the two of them to develop their own independent relationship, and Thor’s own love for his friend and comrade, it was clear to the Ainsley that his lover was still not altogether comfortable with the arrangement between the three of them.  And yet he was unwilling for it to be discontinued.  Ainsley was beginning to intuit the big warrior’s strategy and loved him more for it.

His hand travelled down the sensitive skin between Thor’s powerful thighs, finding the spots where he knew his lover best like to be touched.  The big warrior growled, picking up the pillow with his teeth and shaking it; there was something leonine about him when he was aroused, like a great cat at play. He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and regarded the smaller man with a mischievous smile.  At any time of day or night Thor was startlingly attractive, Ainsley thought.  Just now, even looking at him was a sexual experience.  His long blond hair was loose, falling across his shoulders and chest.  The shadows cast by the dim lighting threw the lines of his muscular torso into sharp relief, highlighted by the faint sheen of oil. 

The Asgardian gasped as Ainsley’s hand wrapped around him and squeezed softly, teasing him with the tip of his thumb in a way that made him shudder with urgent lust.

“Would you like me to work on your front now?” 

Thor’s smile widened into a grin.  He rolled on top of Ainsley, careful to avoid resting his full weight upon him, and ground his hips slowly. 

“Mmmm, feels like you have other ideas!” the doctor murmured as the warrior moved warm and hard against him.

“I have it in mind to massage you in a different manner.”  Thor whispered in his ear, wetting his fingers in his mouth and slipping his hand between the young doctor’s legs.  He was an attentive lover and disliked receiving pleasure without giving in return.

They continued kissing for a long time afterwards, exploring each other’s bodies, unwilling to allow their intimacy to come to an end.  Finally, Thor lay back and let out a long, contented sigh.  After a while he propped himself up on his elbow again and stroked Ainsley’s face, running his fingers alone the line of jaw and cheekbones.  There was a question that had been troubling him

“I do not hurt you, do I?”

“What?” asked Ainsley, still in the dreamy afterglow of his lover’s embrace.

“When we are together, when I am inside you; I do not cause you pain?  I know I am bigger than most men and sometimes forget my strength when the heat is on me.  I would not like to think that you are in discomfort when we make love.”

Ainsley took Thor’s hand and kissed it

“You’re also gentler and more thoughtful than most.  I could never be uncomfortable with you.”

The warrior smiled down at him, not entirely convinced.  His lover was not deceptive in Loki’s fashion, but he would sometimes say kind lies to avoid telling a difficult truth. 

“But if I cause you pain you must tell me.  I will stop. I have no desire to hurt you”

Ainsley sighed, Thor’s need to be constantly re-assured that he was doing the right thing was exhausting and yet understandable.  All that ‘worthy/unworthy’ nonsense had caused severe damage to his self-esteem and confidence that was still far from repaired.  If he ever met the AllFather of Asgard he would be giving Odin some sharp words about responsible parenting.  Without thinking he replied

“We could always agree a safety-word”

“A Safety Word? What is that?”

_Damn!_

The next hour was spent explaining consensual S&M to the Asgardian as Ainsley mentally added a new Penthouse Rule ‘Do not expose Thor to new concepts after bedtime.” 

Thor shook his head.  He enjoyed doing new things but that sort of bed-game did not seem like something he could ever find pleasure in.  Even if his companion enjoyed it the idea of inflicting any form of pain on someone he loved was a thing he had no wish or inclination to do.

“We will not have a Safety Word.  If I give you pain you must tell me to stop and I will stop.”  The tone of his voice was clear; the subject was not one for argument. 

Dr Osario had spoken about how he should consider setting ‘respectful boundaries’ in his relationships.  This felt like a thing he must be firm about.

Ainsley ran his hand through his lover’s hair

“Of course, and you must do the same if I hurt you in any way.”

Thor understood the levels of meaning behind Ainsley’s words.  He paused before speaking again, he had make himself sure about something.

“Does Clint ask you to play such bed-games?  I would not be happy if that were so.”

“Never” the doctor assured him “It was just a stupid joke I made without thinking and now I’ve upset you.  I’m sorry.”

“I shall forgive you” laughed Thor “You are always very patient when you explain these things to me.”

Ainsley leaned over and kissed him

“I like explaining things to you, Snuggie-Bear; and I promise you I’ll never do anything you ask me not to.”

He looked down at Thor with a sly, wicked smile

“But I do like the idea of you in leather; shall we go clothes shopping tomorrow?”

Thor grinned and hugged his lover.  That sounded like a much better game.

###

“Wow!”

“Reel your tongue back in, Pepper.  Drooling is unsightly.” Tony looked back across at Thor in his new outfit. “However, in a perfectly heterosexual way, I agree. Wow!”

The leather jeans fitted him perfectly, following the curves of thigh and calf without being stupidly tight.  Together with the square-toed boots they looked incredible.  The shirt was silk, ox-blood red with a close, tailored line and unbuttoned just far enough to give a hint of the powerful chest that filled it out.  His beard had been trimmed and the long hair pulled back in a simple ponytail held with a black leather band.

“It’s that jacket that’s the real finishing touch. Show them, babe!”

Thor smiled and put it on, turning to show them all the full magnificence.  He had seen the jacket while they were buying shirts and knew he had to have it.  Black matt silk with a feather design in gold thread that caught the light as he moved, dropping cleanly to mid-thigh with velvet trim on collar and cuffs.  Bruce applauded

“The Prince of Midgard!”

Steve was astonished.  When he had been growing up, things like fashion and style had been mainly the domain of women and wealthy ones at that.  ‘Real men’ didn’t care about their appearance beyond a clean suit, a shave and a dash of hair oil.  Thor just looked amazing.  He had to agree with Pepper and Tony. Wow!

Tony called to the soldier across the room

“Hey, Ice-Cap!  Maybe you should get Sherlock to give you a make-over as well.  You can only combine so many button-down shirts and chinos before it starts getting repetitive.”

Ainsley felt a warm glow of happiness.  Thor’s wardrobe to date, apart from his battle armour, had consisted of about a dozen or so increasingly threadbare items.  Once he had got him into the clothes stores, however, the natural peacock in the big warrior had re-emerged.  Most of the clothes he’d chosen himself, showing an expert eye for the styles and colours that best suited him.  The doctor drank his coffee, watching his lover strut and show off for his friends, basking in their approval and applause

_There’s a reason they call it retail therapy_

He got up and took the small box out of his pocket

“I was going to give you this later, babe, but now seems like as good a time as any.”

They all gathered around to see what it was.  The pendant that Ainsley removed from the box was a perfect miniature replica of Mjolnir in silver, gold wire and red enamel on a sturdy silver chain. He’d commissioned it specially a few weeks before, from a jeweller Tony had recommended, when he realised that his lover’s traumas were beginning to resurface.  Thor took it in his hands and looked at it with awe.  There were tears in his eyes; of all the gifts he could ever be given this was the one that would forever be most precious to him.

“There’s a message on it for you” said Ainsley

Thor looked closely.  On the base was a finely carved runic inscription.  He could easily read what it said

**_Always Worthy_ **

Thor and Ainsley embraced and the Asgardian buried his face against his lover’s neck.  The others could see his shoulders shaking gently, and discreetly retreated to the bar to give the two men a little space.  Pepper whispered in Tony’s ear

“At least some people give jewellery around here!”

The billionaire sighed

_Thanks, Sherlock!_

After a while Thor straightened up, drying his eyes.  Ainsley kissed him and fastened the pendant around his neck.  The chain was the right length and the hammer sat just below the hollow of Thor’s throat.  They joined the others at the bar where Tony was pouring out champagne, and a ginger ale for Bruce.  He bit his tongue to prevent himself making a facetious toast to ‘Mr & Mrs Odinson”.  Whatever just happened seemed too important to taint with his customary sarcasm.

“We should go out” Pepper said suddenly

“What?!” was the surprised joint response of Steve and Bruce. Tony looked as if the idea held some appeal to him. 

“Look” she explained “It’s been a really rough few weeks around here for all of you and now for the first time no-one that we know of is having an immediate crisis; Clint and Natasha are off doing whatever they do to relax, Thor and Ainsley have had a very special moment and I think we could all do with a bit of fun.”

She looked at her watch

“It’s only 6 just now.  If Tony can’t get us dinner reservations for 8 and on the guest list of the hottest club in town, he’ll lose whatever respect I still have for him”

She flashed a charming smile at Tony who stuck out his tongue in response. He picked his phone. 

“What do you say ‘Bjorn’, night on the town to celebrate?”

Thor grinned. ‘Bjorn Erikson’ was his cover identity; an ex Norwegian Special Forces security consultant for Stark Industries.  It was a cover he enjoyed playing and Pepper was right, they needed to have a bit of fun.

###

It had taken some persuading to get Steve, and especially Bruce, to come along to the club with them after dinner but Pepper had used all her charm and Tony promised Bruce there would be a car and driver waiting to take him home any time he wanted. 

It wasn’t so much a club as a very exclusive private party venue where the rich and famous could enjoy themselves without fear of being plastered all over the supermarket tabloids or gossip websites the next morning.   

There was a ‘quiet bar’ on the balcony overlooking the main floor and the two of them sat there watching the dancers.  Bruce recognised quite a few faces, mostly from the movies.  There must have been a premiere or something on in town tonight.

Steve looked down at the scene below them

“Are they actually dancing or just having fully-dressed stand-up sex?”

Bruce laughed, accepting another soda water from the waitress and handing Steve his scotch

“Isn’t that what dancing’s always been, more or less?” He looked down to where the others were partying hard “except for ‘Bjorn’ and Ainsley who are just having fully-dressed stand-up sex”

He had always assumed that the Asgardian would have been the most easily recognisable of them apart from Tony.  Steve made hardly any public appearances without the Cap Suit while, like Natasha and Clint, Bruce kept himself resolutely invisible; but in regular clothes Thor just looked like a big buff dude rocking the God of Thunder look. 

He laughed again to himself. Everyone seemed to assume that Thor would be eight foot-tall and fart lightning, whereas the real thing was a respectable, but not excessive, 6’4” and the farting hadn’t been a problem since Ainsley banned Burrito Night. 

He could see the others heading towards the stairs with a small knot of people, recognising them as the actors who were playing the highly-fictionalised version of the Avengers Team in the “Battle of New York” movie that was due out later in the year.  Apparently, they’d given the Hawkeye character a family which Bruce and Steve agreed was a bit tasteless; still, that was Hollywood for you.

One of the actors, a tall brown-haired man was waving at them as the group came up the wide spiral stair.

“Hey Steve, isn’t that the guy that’s playing you?”

Steve looked to where the scientist was pointing and gave a friendly salute in response

“Oh yeah! Chris something or other. He’s a good guy.  Looks like Stark’s bringing them to join us, you want to stick around?”

Bruce glanced at the time

“No thanks, I’m going to take Tony up on the car offer and head back.  I’ll be ok on my own.” 

He could see the soldier was starting to loosen up and enjoy himself.  He was too, but this had never been his thing even before his ‘accident’ and he could tell the night would just get wilder.  Some of those guys had serious party-animal reputations and Tony would inevitably insist on an after-party at the Penthouse so he might as well take the chance to get bunkered down.  There would be some serious hangovers the next morning

###

Clint and Natasha were having a lunch in a small hotel near the site of the Hobbiton set.  After they had visited Chisholm the archer had decided what he really wanted to do was see some of the ‘Lord of The Rings’ filming sites in New Zealand.  It wasn’t Natasha’s idea of a holiday and she had pointed out it was winter in the Southern Hemisphere, but she had also promised Clint that he could choose where they went and what they did so she couldn’t really complain about him letting his inner geek out to play. 

It would be around midnight in New York and she’d agreed with Cap to call in each night about that time just so he knew they were fine and alive.  She pulled out her phone and texted quickly

**All ok here, how’s the ranch? NR**

A couple of minutes later her phone buzzed.  She burst out laughing and passed it over to Clint so he could read the message

**We are in a club. People are doing ‘Body Shots’ off Stark. Help. SR**

Clint collapsed onto his side in a fit of helpless giggles

“Tash, you choose the worst times for us to go on vacation!”

 

 


	13. Crime and Punishment Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline. 3rd week of September 2013  
> A challenging mission has been successfully accomplished, but the team’s euphoria is shattered by news of an attack that affects them all.  
> Coulson takes a risk and Natasha demonstrates her interrogation skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong language and references to violence

“Well, I think we can all consider that a job well done” Tony Stark proclaimed happily as he cracked open a bottle of bourbon.  Natasha threw him an exasperated look.  He knew there was no alcohol allowed aboard the Quinjets but always managed to lay his hands on some; it wouldn’t surprise her if he had secret compartments built into his suits.

“Unfortunately,” he continued “the glasses went down with the other ship so we’ll just have to share germs.”

He swallowed a mouthful and waved the bottle in the general direction of the others with a questioning expression.  Steve looked unamused

“Stark, you know Fury’s rule about this!”

The billionaire gave a dismissive wave

“I prefer to think of it as a broad general guideline.  Besides, we’re on our way back from a mission, a very successful one in the circumstances! We’ve survived an Electro-Magnetic-Pulse attack, an unscheduled crash, our very own live-action Cannibal Holocaust experience and completed the job we set out to do.  The Hydra weapons have been secured, the artefact smugglers dealt with and we got through it all without Pidgeon either breaking something or soiling himself…”

“Fuck you, Stark!” responded Hawkeye with an angry glare, grabbing the bourbon and swallowing a mouthful “That’s only ever happened once and I was falling ass first towards razorwire at the time”

Tony took the bottle back and had another drink, remembering Clint’s embarrassment with malicious pleasure.  No-one had been too keen to sit near him on the way back from that mission.

“Well, if that’s the case, when we get home I’ll tell Nanny McPhee you’re ready to move into big-boy pants.”

Natasha laughed and relieved Tony of the liquor, at least if they all had some he wouldn’t arrive for the debrief in Bogota falling-down drunk.

“You do realise Ainsley would not be pleased to hear you’re still calling him that”

Tony scowled comically

“I know.  He’d probably do something extreme like go ‘tsk!’ and put the milk in before the tea.”

Steve grinned and held his hand out for the bottle.  Stark had a point.  The mission had started as a complete disaster; their Quinjet being downed by an EMP weapon before even reaching the rendezvous point.  They’d been stuck in the jungle with no electronics, no communications and just the most basic equipment.  Barton’s hearing aids had only kept working because Stark had upgraded them to be EMP-resistant, either that or the archer had a lead-lined skull. Jury was out on that one.

Stark had been predictably obnoxious about that, of course, until Natasha pointed out that if he’d bothered to upgrade his suits with the same technology they wouldn’t be in this mess.  They’d all agreed not to talk about the unanticipated ‘green-out’ situation for the moment.  Dr Banner had been unable to grab a parachute in time when Thor smashed their way out of the plummeting jet and had hulked in mid fall, landing very angry indeed. 

Luckily the ‘lullaby’ that Br Banner and Natasha had been experimenting with worked in practise, but Thor had been badly knocked about while from keeping the raging Hulk away from the unconscious pilot.  It had been a close call and Dr Banner was still shaken by it.  He had needed to transform again, this time deliberately, once they located the EMP generator.  Twice in such a short space of time was a severe strain on his system and he sat in a corner resting quietly.  Normally he would be immersed in his favourite classical mixes but his sPod had been fried along with the other electronics on the downed Quinjet.  The others were leaving him to himself until he felt ready to talk.

He passed the bottle over to Thor who was lying back across the seats, resting his badly bruised ribs.  The Asgardian took it and chugged the remaining liquor to Barton and Stark’s squawks of protest.

“It is medicinal,” he rumbled with a mischievous wink at Steve “there will be more when we land.”

They arrived at the military airfield just outside Bogota around 6pm local time.  Tony figured that gave them time to debrief, shower and change before sampling a bit of the local nightlife.  Flying back to New York could wait until tomorrow.  Fury was waiting for them when they landed, looking his usual grim-faced self.

_That man is never pleased about anything._

“Well, Fury?” he asked, beaming “No laurel wreaths for the conquering heroes?”

The Shield Director’s words took the smiles of all their faces

“I regret to have to tell you; Dr Kerr was attacked in New York two days ago; his condition is critical.”

###

“What is this ‘coding’? And how can he be ‘critical’ and ‘comfortable’ at the same time? This makes no sense, tell me plainly what has happened to Ainsley!” 

There was a growing edge of anger and desperation in Thor’s voice.  Bruce could feel his distress and empathised with it.  Medical doublespeak was frustrating enough if you knew the hard meanings beneath the blandly comforting words.  Without that context, it sounded like total nonsense.  To the Asgardian it must seem as if he was being deliberately misled about his lover’s condition.  He went over and sat down beside Thor, taking his hand.

“Thor; Ainsley was stabbed six times in the chest and stomach, we’re very lucky he wasn’t killed outright.  The blade missed his heart but punctured a lung, there was also damage to other internal organs.  He lost a great deal of blood and his heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital and they had to revive him, that’s what they mean by ‘coding’.  They’ve operated, but now he’s under heavy sedation to give his body the chance to heal itself.”

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he explained the cold facts of the situation.  He glanced over at Natasha and gave her a re-assuring nod.  Having had two ‘episodes’ in the last four days, they were worried that this new shock might trigger a third.  He didn’t think there was a risk of that just now but he could never be completely sure.

“He’s on machines to help him breathe and to monitor his vital signs.  Once he shows signs of improving they’ll begin to reduce the sedation until he’s able to breathe on his own.”

Thor nodded with a sigh of relief. That finally made sense.  Warriors of Asgard were trained to enter a Sleep that would help them in healing their battle wounds; of course, a scholar like Ainsley would need healers to carry out this task for him.   

“When will he awaken?”

Bruce swallowed nervously.  Thor was clearly doing what he often did and mentally translating what he was being told into the terms of how things happened on his own world. 

“We don’t know yet.” He had to take another couple of deep breaths, pushing his surging anger back into the Safe Place. “Thor, there’s still a very real chance he may die.”

There, he’d said the words no one in the room wanted to acknowledge.  The Asgardian’s face contorted with grief and denial

“No, he cannot…” he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.

Clint felt like he was going to be sick, he could see by the look on Tasha’s face she felt the same.  The weapon had been a sheath-knife, a six-inch blade with serrated edge, like the one he carried.  He’d taken down men three times Doc’s size and ten times tougher with a single strike.  It seemed almost impossible he could have survived the effects of an assault like that.

“How did it happen?” Tony demanded.  He wanted to be on his way back to New York now but Fury wanted to get all this out while they were still down on the ground; releasing the immediate tension and anger before they were 30,000 feet in the air.

Director Fury kept his voice steady and controlled as he spelled out the details.  Although he would rarely admit it aloud, he liked and respected Dr Kerr greatly; valuing the way he helped deal with the tensions amongst this volatile and unbalanced group of people.  Since the urbane psychologist came on board they had been functioning more as a team and less like a 6-person car-crash. 

The witness reports stated Dr Kerr had been at his usual table outside the café they often went to.  The waitress recalled that as the doctor was getting up to leave, a scruffily dressed adolescent male approached him and asked him for money.  As Dr Kerr reached for his wallet the young man pulled out a knife and stabbed him repeatedly before trying to run.  The assailant was brought down by two NYPD officers who were on the scene and was now in SHIELD custody.

“Do we know who the assailant is?” asked Natasha.  She was asking Fury but her eyes were on Clint.  He was staring fixedly at the surface of the table, face flushed; breathing fast and hard.  She was afraid he was going to start hyperventilating.

“He gave his name as Abel Walsh.” There was no way to sugar-coat this “He said he was cancelling his father’s paycheck.”

The back of Clint’s chair banged hard on the floor as the archer leapt up and marched from the room.  They could hear his fist striking repeatedly on the wall outside as he screamed out his anger.  Steve made to get up and follow him but was stopped by an urgent shake of the head from Natasha.  She knew Clint’s moods, this was one step short of full Barton Crazy.  If anyone went out there just now, he would start hitting them instead.

Tony inhaled deeply

_How much more of this can Pidgeon take before he snaps completely?_

“Well this is a magnificently fucked-up situation.” He looked at Fury “When can we be on our way back to New York? Also, I need a new handset; my phone is still fried and there are some calls I must make.  You also might want to line up some soothing music for Bruce.”

_Pepper, I need to speak to her; God knows what state she must be in._

He was registered as the doctor’s official next-of-kin and held Power of Attorney to act on his behalf if necessary.  He would need to call Ainsley’s family lawyers in London, find out what arrangements he had in place.  He shivered, even thinking about it felt like admitting there was no hope for that fussy, irritating, kind and indispensable little man.

Clint came back in; flexing his raw, bloody knuckles.

“Haven’t broken ‘em, don’t worry.”

He sat down next to Thor on the other side from Bruce, putting his arm around the Asgardian in a silent embrace and resting his head on the warrior’s shoulder. Fury gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement and continued.

“There’s a transport arranged to take you direct to New York; it’s ready to go when you are.  I’ll arrange to have new handsets on board”

It would be almost 6 hours before they got back.  It was going to be a tough trip.

Natasha’s mind was occupied with the words from the police report ‘I wanted to cancel my dad’s pay check.”

Only a handful of people knew the real relationship between Ainsley and Hawkeye, although there was inevitably gossip about the closeness between the two men; especially given Clint’s current reputation in some sections of SHIELD as a ‘backstabbing cocksucker’.  Officially, the only link between them was their mutual connection to the intelligence organisation; Clint as Tony Stark’s SHIELD ‘Handler’ and Ainsley as ‘Special Consultant’ to the Science and Technology Division.

Abel Walsh clearly knew his father had some sort of close relationship with Ainsley, she could hazard a guess at what he thought it was but didn’t want to cloud her mind with speculation.  She had to speak to him. 

One thing was certain; it was unlikely that he could have obtained that sort of information unaided.  They knew that Clint’s brother had previously been used as a SHIELD asset and still had contact or contacts unknown he was using to stay one step ahead of them.  It was highly possible the same contacts were providing Barney with information about the personal relationships among the team. 

“I need to speak to the boy.”

They all looked at her, except Thor.  The Asgardian brooded, fingering the pendant Ainsley had given him.  His other arm was round Clint’s shoulder, holding him tight as if the physical contact was the only thing restraining his rage.  Fury’s expression told her he had been considering the same option.

“Let me speak to the boy when we get back. I can find out everything he knows without creating further complications.”

Everyone’s attention was on Fury now, and how he would respond.  He looked round at them all, seeing their doubts and the unspoken questions.

“I have no intention of handing a 17-year-old boy over to an interrogation team.  Once back in New York, Agent Romanoff will take personal charge of questioning Abel Walsh until further notice.”

 

###

Steve dealt another hand of Patience.  They’d been in the air for four hours.  Still two to go before they got back.  Fury had wrapped up the rest of the debrief as quickly as possible, aware of the urgency they all felt.  Stark had called Ms Potts as soon as he got his new handset, putting her on speaker so they could all hear.  Her voice was hoarse from crying.  Dr Kerr had coded again and needed emergency surgery for continued abdominal bleeding.  She broke down while telling them that one of the doctors, knowing Dr Kerr to be Catholic, had suggested she might want to call a priest.

No-one was speaking much.  Dr Banner was asleep, his head resting on Natasha’s lap.  She appeared to be sleeping as well but Steve suspected she was wide awake, reviewing the situation and considering strategies.  Thor and Barton sat together in silence, whatever words they had to share would not be for the ears of the others.  He’d seen that before, when two men who fought together had lost someone they both loved

_Dr Kerr’s not dead yet; and what can you say to your friend when your son has stabbed the man you both love?_

He caught Stark’s eye.  There was an understanding between them.  Even if Fury wanted, there was no way he would be able to keep them away from this case.  It had been personal before but now they’d been hit right in the heart.  Abel Walsh was just the weapon.  Whether Dr Kerr lived or died, they would find the man responsible and show him exactly why they merited the name Avengers.

Eventually the “Fasten Your Seatbelts” sign lit up and they began their descent.

###

Agent May checked the message on her phone.  It was from Ward at the landing strip

“They’ve just landed.  We should leave now.”  She glared at the man standing beside her “This was a bad idea.”

“You think everything’s a bad idea” replied Coulson, still looking down at the man in the ICU bed. “I had to see him.  This shouldn’t have happened”

May shook her head

“It’s not your fault.” She hated that self-doubt in the older man’s eyes.  Sometimes he expected too much of himself

“Isn’t it? If we’d got to the boy first…”

“You could have saved him like you did his father?  You can’t take responsibility for everything and everyone.  Let’s go”

She took his arm and steered him towards the emergency stairs. He glanced back as they left

“Fury should’ve let him consult with us.  With his abilities, we’d be much further forward than we are.”

_And I really want to take a spin in the doctor’s car_

She sighed, this again.  Fury had made it plain several times that letting Dr Kerr near any of the team would be a mistake.  Agent Hill’s roundabout request for a psychological evaluation of Barney Barton had led to a series of subtly probing questions about why the investigating team wasn’t asking for this directly.  Someone like Sky or FitzSimmons would be an open book to him.

“You know what Fury said, it can’t be guaranteed that he would keep your survival a secret from the Avengers.”

Coulson nodded.  It was frustrating, but Agent May was right.  The doctor’s allegiance was to the Avengers.  He could not be trusted to keep SHIELD’s secrets at the expense of lying to his friends. 

There was the other possibility why Fury wanted to keep them apart; if Dr Kerr was even half as gifted as his grandmother had reputedly been, he might just be able to work out exactly what did happen in Tahiti. 

###

It hadn’t seemed real until they were standing there; as if a bad joke were being played on them and Ainsley was waiting back at the Penthouse with coffee and sandwiches; anxious to assure himself they were safe and well and eager to hear about their adventures.  He was pallid, almost grey against the harsh white hospital sheets.  A breathing tube was down his throat and machines sat all around the bed; monitoring and measuring heartbeat, blood pressure and brain activity.  Clint watched through the window as Thor’s composure finally gave way and he wept helplessly by his lover’s side.

_It should be me in there.  I’m the one who’s supposed to break himself on missions.  Doc was just having his lunchtime coffee, probably wondering if there was anything new worth seeing at the Guggenheim_

He felt someone put their arms around him as his own tears started to flow.

Tony had already taken Pepper home.  The Stark Industries CEO was on the brink of collapse from stress and exhaustion.  With everyone else away and out of contact she’d been dealing with this by herself for three days solid.

Steve touched Thor’s shoulder lightly to attract his attention

“The other’s will be leaving soon, Stark’s sent a car and driver; ICU rules only allow for a maximum of two visitors at any one time.  You want me to keep you company?”

Thor shook his head

“The doctors tell me that Ainsley may still be able to hear me.  I do not know if that is true, but there are private things I want to say to him.  You should go with the others and rest, but ask Clint if he wishes to stay.  Tell him I would like that and so would Ainsley.”

Steve hugged the big warrior close

“Sure will, and I’ll be over later to see how you’re doing.”

###

Thor found Clint waiting for him in the Visitor’s lounge

“Would you like to be alone with him for a time? I will come and join you both later.”

“Thanks Blondie” He handed him a cup “I got you some hot chocolate, I asked them not to put too many marshmallows in but…”

Thor’s looked unhappily down at the gloop floating on the surface.  It would stick to his beard and Ainsley wouldn’t be there to fuss over him with a damp napkin.

“Only Beth knows how I like it…” his voice tailed off.  She had been talking to Ainsley just before he was attacked.  There was a kind card from her and the others at the café beside the bed.  He would go and say thank you later. Clint gave his shoulder a squeeze

“What I got to say won’t take too long.  Come back soon, he’ll want us both there.”

There was something Thor needed to say to him first.  The old codes of Asgard were strict, blood must pay for blood, and he would exact that price in full but there was one thing his friend must be told.

“You have my word I will not seek vengeance on your son, even if Ainsley dies.  He would not wish me to do such a thing and I would not think it honourable.  I cannot give the same promise about your brother; it is on his head that the blood-debt rests and I will exact full payment .”

Hawkeye took Thor’s hand in both of his, holding it tight against his chest so the Asgardian could feel the steady beat of his heart.

“I give you this promise, Thor.  We’ll make him pay together.”

###

Clint sat down beside Ainsley’s bed.  The room was silent except for the bleeping of the machines and the artificial wheezing of the respirator.  He’d see if they could get some music in here.  Doc liked Mozart best of all, called it his ‘brain-oil’

He leaned over and softly kissed the doctor’s forehead.

“Stay with me, Doc.” He whispered “I can’t go on without you.”

###

They’d taken him from the interrogation room at the precinct-house.  Three men in black suits and ties.  Put a bag over his head and shoved him in the back of a car.  He’d wet himself, earning a punch in the kidneys.  The man he’d stabbed was rich.  Uncle Barney always said rich people like that owned the cops, had their own laws and guys like these who enforced them.  They were gonna take him somewhere and kill him.  If he was lucky they’d do it quick.

The hood had come off in a plain white room. They’d taken his clothes, made him shower then gave him a clean T-shirt, shorts and orange coverall.  There was a bed fixed to the wall, a toilet and a washbasin.  He’d been here three days at least, maybe one or two more, no real way to tell without a clock or a window.  The lights went off when it was time to sleep and on when it was time to wake.  Three meals a day brought by two big, silent men with guns and pepper sprays. 

He’d yelled himself hoarse for his phone call and a lawyer. No-one had said anything more to him that “Stand up” “Sit Down” or “Face the wall”

It was like they were waiting for orders from somewhere before they did whatever they were going to do to him. 

They took him to a room with a table fixed to the floor and two chairs, a long mirror down one side.  Bigger and cleaner than the interrogation room at the precinct.  His wrists were shackled to the table with a chain that allowed him some movement of his arms.  Then they left him for what seemed like hours.  There would be people behind the mirror, he knew that.  Maybe the rich friends of the man he’d stabbed, sitting there to watch what was going to happen.  He hoped he wouldn’t wet himself again.

He looked up as the door opened.  It was a woman; a real hot woman with red hair, wearing a smart black skirt and jacket.  High heels too, and black stockings. She put a sandwich and a paper cup of Coke in front of him

“It’s tuna salad” she said, her voice sounded European “I’m told you like that, and its Regular Coke.  I can get Diet if you prefer.”

“Regular’s fine, thanks.” He took an experimental bite out of the sandwich, it was good.   

Natasha watched as the boy munched down the sandwich, swallowing it with gulps of Coke.  He ate quickly and nervously; glancing up at her, the door and the mirror all the time.  She’d seen Clint eat like this before, often earning a slap on the wrist from Ainsley as he bolted down a meal he and Natasha had spent all afternoon preparing.  It was the legacy of childhood deprivation, time spent on the run grabbing food fast whenever possible. 

Abel finished the last of the Coke and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand

“You my lawyer?” He asked.  It didn’t seem likely, any lawyer they got him would be one of those cheap county ones who’d tell him to plead guilty so’s not to waste anyone’s time.  She shook her head with a funny kind of half-smile on her face

“You don’t get a lawyer, Abel.  We’re not the police.  The rules here are different and you need to start understanding that if you want to have a chance of getting through this.”

“You Feds? Or something else?” The guy had been a Brit.  Maybe some kinda political type or one of those fancy lords they had over there.  He was in real big trouble, bigger than he ever coulda imagined.  She still had that smile

“Let’s stick with the ‘something else’.  Are they treating you okay?”

“Can’t complain” he replied carefully “food’s good and the place don’t smell of puke.  So, if you ain’t my lawyer why you here?”

He was scared witless, she could tell that without even trying, putting on the false bravado of the adolescent male hopelessly out of his depth but trying to act tough in front of a pretty face.  She took a file out her bag and laid it on the table.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff.  I just want to ask you a few questions and try to understand why you did what you did.”

The boy grimaced, still putting on the pathetic tough-guy routine he’d probably learned from too many police dramas.

“Told the cops that already.  Wanted to kill the rich fag my scumbag dad was fucking.”

She opened the file and carefully leafed through the pages

“Is that how your father makes his money?”

“Yeah, Uncle Barney told me.  Said he fucks rich folks, don’t care if it’s men or women.  Gets money off them and spends it on drugs and whores.”

Tasha folded her hands carefully on top of the file

“I can imagine that made you very angry.”

“Made me sick, that’s what!” the boy exploded, his caution evaporating for the moment as his hatred took over. “Mama wasted away and died waiting for that piece of shit to show his face again, broke Uncle Barney’s heart, and there’s him cheating all these folks out of their money just so he can get high and get blown.  Don’t care if they was rich or not, no-one deserves to have that loser leech off them.”

Natasha sat back in her chair, feeling the anger and resentment spilling out of the boy.  She’d already come to one conclusion.  If Barney was training Abel to be a killer, it was a very amateur job.

_Time to throw out a bit more bait._

“Do you think that’s what he was doing to Dr Kerr?”

Abel looked up at her

“That his name?”

She nodded, passing him the photograph her hands had rested on.  It was a black and white shot she’d taken one afternoon at the Academy as she watched him come down the steps of the main building, joking with Dr Weaver about something.  He’d been in a light summer suit with one of those open necked shirts he favoured, raincoat over one arm and laptop bag in hand; he looked so stylish, happy and relaxed she’d felt compelled to capture the moment. 

It was one of her favourite pictures of him.  She’d cried looking at it this earlier this morning; Clint had called from the hospital to say Ainsley was ‘stable’ but the doctors weren’t going to try starting to reduce the sedation for another couple of days at least.

The boy looked at it for a while in silence then passed it back to her.

“He looks kinda nice.  I’m sorry.”

The emotion in Natasha’s voice wasn’t feigned

“He’s the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known.  Whatever you believe your father’s done, Ainsley didn’t deserve this.”

He’d not been thinking about hurting anyone.  Just wanted to know if it was all true, that his dad was as bad as Uncle Barney said.  That way he could stop thinking about the shitbag for good and get on with being his own man.  Uncle Barney would be mad he’d left.  Any time he went away on ‘business’ he was meant to stay behind. ‘Mind the ranch’ was what he always got told, but this time he’d took some money and some of the photos that Uncle Barney’s friends in New York had given him, got the bus to Burlington and the train to New York.

One of the photos showed the man coming out a building with ‘Stark Tower’ above the doors.  He’d found it easily and waited across the road since early morning.  No-one bothered to notice the skinny, scruffy boy sitting on a step. 

He’d come out just after 10; guess rich folks like him didn’t have to bother with early mornings or going out to make an honest dollar.  Probably paid all sorts of folks to make his money for him, like he paid dad to fuck his ass.  He’d followed him around all morning watching.  Hated to admit it but the man didn’t seem like the rich douches he’d run across before when out doing lawns and backyards with Uncle Barney.  He was being nice to everyone, smiling and saying hello, treating them as real people.  The waitress at the fancy street café had looked happy to see him like he was an old friend.

The man was a nice guy really, he ought to go tell him what a crooked fuck his dad was; that he only wanted his money.  He’d gone up and asked for 5 bucks for something to eat.  The man had said ‘Of course’ and taken out his wallet like it was no trouble in the world. 

Things went a bit wrong then, the look the man gave him was like he recognised him or maybe he’d seen the knife.  He always wore it out in the country, hadn’t thought about taking it off his belt when he got dressed to leave.  Then he saw the two cops coming out with coffee in their hands.  He’d panicked, if he couldn’t fuck up his dad one way he’d do it another.  Couldn’t really remember stabbing him, just the shocked look on the man’s face as the knife went in, the waitress screaming, the cops dropping their coffee and grabbing him…

The boy’s voice had given up a few minutes ago, now he was just sitting there crying.  She closed the file and passed him some paper handkerchiefs.  He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. 

“He gonna be ok?

She sighed, this had been easier than she thought but no less painful

“I hope so. We don’t know for sure yet”

She put the file back into her bag

“You’ve been very helpful, Abel, thank you.  I’ll be coming back tomorrow to speak to you some more.  In the meantime, I’ll get them to put a TV in your cell.  It must be very boring in there.”

He looked up at her as she stood.  There was still a hunted, suspicious look in his eyes

“Why you being so nice to me after what I done to your friend?”

She looked down at him, she was smiling again.  This time it was kinda sad

“Because this is what Ainsley would want me to do.  I’ll see you tomorrow”

“Miss Natasha, do you know my dad?”

The question wasn’t unexpected.  She paused with her hand on the door, weighing up what to say

“Yes.  I work with him.” The boy needed more, she knew that “He saved my life once, when I didn’t deserve it.  He’s done some very bad things in his past, but he’s doing his best to try and make up for them.

That should give him something to chew on overnight.

Tony watched from behind the two-way mirror impressed with what he’d witnessed.  Without a direct question being asked they now knew where Barney Barton lived, what he normally did for a living and that the information about Clint and Ainsley had come to him from New York.  The leak was on their own doorstep and he was going to take great pleasure in plugging it.


	14. Crime and Punishment Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline – 3rd week of September 2013; two days after the events of Crime and Punishment Pt 1  
> With Ainsley still in intensive care and showing no sign of improvement the team tries to get on with the task in hand while dealing with their own emotions.   
> Bruce entertains his own private doubts about the doctor’s influence while behind the veils of sleep and unconsciousness strange events are stirring.  
> Thor confronts his own altered circumstances and makes a pact with Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence and torture references.

He was sitting outside on a bench in the parking lot when they arrived.  Natasha motioned to Bruce to head on in and she came over to sit beside him, looking pointedly at the cigarette in his hand

“I thought you’d given up?”

Clint took a final draw and ground the stub out on the edge of the bench, throwing it into the nearby bin.

“Twice today already, maybe third time’s the trick.  You’ve seen him?”

She’d been at the Detention Centre again this morning, her second session with Abel.  She’d talked with him about his mother, the sort of music and movies he liked, growing up on the road; all the time adding more details to the picture of Barney Barton’s movements, contacts and motivations.  That was the easy part; as Black Widow, she extracted secrets from some of the best trained men in the world over a champagne breakfast without them guessing.  The hard one was convincing Abel that his father wasn’t some coke-sniffing petty hood who made his money by sexually servicing rich New Yorkers. 

Just saying ‘Hey, your dad’s Hawkeye.  He helped save the world.’ wasn’t one of the available options.  Until they knew exactly if, or how far, Abel was involved in his uncle’s activities and what they were going to do with him any mention of the Avengers or Clint’s connection to them was prohibited.  Unlike Stark, Tasha knew exactly how far Fury was willing to bend the rules and here there was no room for flexibility. 

Apart from that, years of early conditioning couldn’t be undone so simply.  Some Jesuit educator, Ainsley would be probably able to tell her which one if he were capable of speaking, had said ‘Give me a child until the age of 7 and I will give you the man’.  Barney Barton had the boy until the age of 17, fortunately the evidence showed that he was an incompetent and inconsistent brainwasher.

The trick was to plant enough doubts to allow him to come to his own conclusions about the years of lies and half-truths he’d been brought up on.  Too much too soon and the shutters would come down.  The boy had no formal education but he wasn’t stupid and was naturally suspicious.  If she could turn his suspicions in the right direction the work would be more than half done.

“He’s being treated well.  He’s healthy, if a bit underfed, and he likes pirate stories.  He’s watching Black Sails on NetFlix just now.”

Convincing Clint to see the scared, confused, child behind the teenager who put Ainsley into Intensive Care was going to be the difficult part.  She could anticipate the next question; it was already in his eyes.

“No immediate evidence of physical or sexual abuse.  Whatever else Barney may have been doing, he probably wasn’t beating or raping him.”

Clint lit up another cigarette, ignoring her look of disapproval

“That’s something I suppose.  He tell you anything about Tina?”

“She died two years ago, Influenza.  I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers

“Yeah, me too.”

_Gotta concentrate on Doc, he’s still with us.  Can do my own grieving later._

 She ran her hand through his hair, it was starting to get thick again.

“You’ve not slept in two days; you have to get some rest” She wrinkled her nose “and a shower.  Thor’s not closed his eyes in over a week, it’s not going to help Ainsley get better if the two of you exhaust yourselves.   Bruce and I’ll take this watch.”

She took the cigarette out of his hand

“Third time lucky.  Go get yourself and Thor something to eat then put your heads down for a few hours.  We’ll call you if there’s any change”

###

_They called it the Great Hall.  Really, it was a shabbily grand family room; fifteen generations of Wyndhams and Kerrs watching them from the walls.  It had seemed like the biggest room in the world to them as children.  Mummy would sit curled up on the green leather couch, feet tucked under her, drinking tea and reading the papers after Sunday Mass.  He and Izzie did their jigsaw puzzles on the faded Chinese rug in front of the fireplace.  Izzie would always let him do the edges first before they both began to fill in the middle, even as a child she seemed to instinctively understand his need to bring order out of chaos._

_Pip and Daddy would be throwing a rugby ball around on the lawn, waiting for Mrs McGrory to tell them lunch was ready._

_He was an adult now.  The room felt smaller but every detail was the same, even the half-chewed pencil that Grandpa Francis used for his crosswords._

_Granny Sophie was sitting on the couch.  She’d always been his favourite Granny.  When she came to visit, he would sit on her lap and she’d tell him the dark old fairy stories she’d heard as a child in Bavaria.  He liked them a lot better than the silly ones with all the happy endings they told at school.  He’d especially liked the stories about the man with the skull for a head and the brave knight who’d defeated him.  After one that had been scarier than most she’d whispered in his ear_

_“Never fear the monsters, Little-bug; they should fear us.”_

_She looked like she did in her wedding photograph, blonde hair stylishly waved and wearing the pink diamond brooch that had been given to her grandmother by an Austrian prince.  It still sat in the family’s safety-deposit box at their bank in London. She patted the couch beside her;_

_“Come sit with me, Little-bug.  There is much you need to know and time is not on our side.”_

###

Bruce had a wonderful voice, why had she never realised that before?

The scientist read aloud from Walton’s “The Compleat Angler”.  The choice had surprised her, she’d never figured Ainsley would be interested in fishing, but listening to Bruce softly reading the elegant 17th Century prose and verse she began to grasp the hidden layers of the text and realised why it was one of the doctor’s favourites.  Beneath the discourse on the art and spirit of angling was a subtle message of encouragement, originally directed to the English Royalists weathering the years of Cromwell’s puritan Commonwealth; counselling hope and calm endurance in the face of darkness and despair.

She put her hand on Ainsley’s hoping that he could sense her presence in some way.  His condition wasn’t getting any worse but his vital signs weren’t strong enough for them to think about beginning to reduce the deep sedation.  Too soon and his system would not have had the time to recover properly, too late and there was a risk of coma.

None of them wanted to be in the Penthouse just now.  Ainsley’s stuff was still lying around the living room where he’d left it to go out.  He’d been working on his book and his laptop was open on the coffee table surrounded by notebooks, with the Tardis mug that Clint had bought him sitting beside it.  There was a ‘to-do’ list on the kitchen worktop with half the items crossed out.  It looked like he’d been planning to cook something special for their homecoming. 

Tony refused to allow any of it to be touched.  Ainsley could get very snippy if anyone disturbed his things while he was working and the billionaire wanted it left just the way it was for when he came home.  She knew the way Tony’s mind worked, how difficult it was for him to deal with any sort of loss.  He wasn’t used to it and tidying up Ainsley’s stuff would be an admission they might have lost the doctor for good.  He’d only visited once, briefly, but was keeping in touch.  She’d expected that; Tony was phobic about hospitals at the best of times and preferred to immerse himself in activity, following up on some of the leads she had gleaned from Abel.

They hadn’t been able to pin the leak down to the New York Field Office yet, although Tony clearly hoped it had come from there.  There was bad blood between him and some of the New York agents, he was itching for an excuse to go up against them.  She had a different suspicion though, that she’d only shared with Fury until there was more to go on.  There was one person who definitely knew the intimate details of Clint’s life and his connection with Ainsley.  The Director had assured her the field team would be keeping a very close watch on Dr Osario.

“How’re you doing, Nat?”

Bruce had stopped reading and taken off his glasses, they hadn’t spoken properly since before the mission.  Everything had gone so frantic so quickly that none of them had got the chance to depressurise and regain a bit of equilibrium.

She got up and poured them each a glass of water.

“We’re making faster progress than I imagined.  Abel doesn’t seem to be aware of his uncle’s ‘private business’ but he’s a smart kid and notices a lot more than he realises.  Steve and Fury are talking about what the long-term options are.” 

Handing him his water, she couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face.

“I know what you mean, Bruce.  I’ve cried all the tears I have, now I’m concentrating on solving the problem.  If Ainsley lives, Tony’s going to throw the biggest party in history.  If he dies, we’re all going to feel very bad for a very long time.  At least when Phil died we had a clear enemy to face, Barney is just one small piece of something else…”

She sat down beside him and took his hand.

“Ainsley said he felt that something dark and terrible was happening.  I’m starting to feel it too.”

Bruce knew Nat to dislike speculation without facts, she wasn’t one to give way to fanciful notions.  If she was starting to share one of Ainsley’s intuitions there must be a solid reason for it somewhere.

“Something rotten in the state of SHIELD?”

She nodded

“Fury’s nervous, and it takes a lot to put him on edge. There’s nothing any of us can put our fingers on but some things just don’t seem to be adding up.”

Bruce was fiddling with his glasses, a sure sign of his own anxiety.

“I’m going to read a bit more.  I don’t know if it’s doing Ainsley any good but it’s making me feel a whole lot better.”

He’d never spent that much time with the doctor.  He never spent a lot of time with any of them, preferring the stable, controlled environment of the Research & Development Labs but with Ainsley it was different.  The doctor was skilled at getting into people’s minds and Bruce already had someone in his that he didn’t want.  Two was a crowd in this case, three very unwelcome. 

If he was honest with himself, he thought Ainsley could be more than a bit manipulative; a man who liked to get his own way and was very good at getting it without being obvious.  Standing on the edge of the group he could see how he carefully upheld Steve’s authority, verbally sparred with Stark while becoming Pepper’s close friend and had Thor and Clint eating out of his hand.  As for Nat, if Ainsley’s tastes were different he might well have cause to be jealous. He seemed able to identify what each of them would respond to most favourably and adapt himself accordingly.

It didn’t appear to be deliberate, just the way Ainsley was; in fact, the doctor’s presence had bound the team together in a way he never would have believed possible.  Perhaps that was Fury’s intention and maybe he was letting paranoia get the better of him, but Bruce had to ask himself whether the team answered to Fury now or if it was the prone figure on the bed who really called the shots.  If so, that could backfire on them at some point.  In the wrong circumstances, Dr Kerr might be a very dangerous man.

He reopened Walton’s classic and continued to read, forcing his attention back to the words on the page.

###

They had taken one of the guest rooms at the hospital to be close to each other and to Ainsley.  Thor lay on his back staring up at the ceiling as Clint showered.  He sniffed speculatively at his armpit, he should have one as well.  If things were different, he would have joined Clint in the shower so they could enjoy each other at the same time but neither man desired that sort of physical contact while their lover lay between life and death two floors below.  He could feel the fatigue heavy in his limbs and head.  It had been a week and a half since he had slept and his body screamed for rest.

The injuries he had sustained during his battle with the Hulk were worse than he admitted.  He had been picked up like a child’s doll and hurled against a tree, feeling bones cracking as he fell.  It had been almost a year since he had eaten of the Golden Apples of Idunn and their effects were no longer with him.  He was not as diminished as he had been when Odin stripped him of his powers. It would still take much to weaken or injure him but less than it would once have had. 

The gate of Bifrost had not been opened to him since he returned to be with Jane.  Odin AllFather’s moods had become dark since the death of Frigga and he had been cut deep by his son’s rejection of his birthright, despite his words at the time.  He was not an exile as such, but Midgardians had a saying which described his situation; ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’.”

He would have to sleep, there was no option, but he feared the dream would come.  There would be no gentle hands to soothe him as his eyes closed or tender voice to banish his terrors when he woke.  Clint was there, but that could never be the same.  He looked at the inscription on the pendant around his neck, the one Ainsley had given him that happy night which felt so long ago

**_Always Worthy_ **

They called him ‘God of Thunder’.  They did not know that had been another Thor, the one who carried the name before him and first wielded the might of Mjolnir.  He had been but a babe in arms when the Jotuns were defeated and the power of Asgard withdrew to its own realm, had never set foot on Midgard before the Allfather banished him here.  Since the Battle of New York, cults had been set up in his name and Tony’s offices received many electronic messages requesting he ‘bless them with His Divine Presence’ or often ‘with His Divine Seed’.  He responded to none of them, it would not be worthy.  These people claimed to ‘believe’ in him but there was only one who had faith in him.

Clint came in from the shower, still towelling himself off.  Thor felt a great sadness in his heart as he watched his friend.  The archer looked beaten down, despondent.  The son who should be by his side had been stolen from him, his mind warped by a brother who hated him.  The maiden who was his first love had died in loneliness and poverty and the man he now loved lay nearby, almost slain by the hand of his own child.  No man was born to bear so many griefs in so little space of time.

He got up and put his arms around Clint, holding him silently before kissing him on the forehead.

“I stand with you, Hawkeye the Avenger.  We will be strong together for the ones we love.”

Clint laid his head on the warrior’s shoulder; the guy had the shakes.  Hell, they both did.  Tasha was right, if they didn’t get some rest right now they’d be in a seriously bad way.

“I’m with you as well, Big Blond, but if we don’t sleep now we’ll be no good to anyone.” he patted Thor’s face “Go hit the shower, you smell like old cat food.”

He chose the couch, he could sleep pretty much anywhere and it was big and comfy.  Thor could have the bed.  It was supposed to be a double but looked like it would be pretty cramped for the pair of them.

Hawkeye slept with one ear open, that had been the joke.  The assassin’s training had conditioned him to be sensitive to potential sources of danger especially when he was vulnerable in his sleep.  The joke had stopped being funny when a mistimed concussion grenade destroyed his hearing.  He didn’t like sleeping with his hearing aids in.  When Tony had redesigned them, he’d improved the fit, but keeping them in for extended periods of time still irritated his ears.  He’d had them in for over 72 hours now and there’d been a bit of blood on the towel after he dried off.

He’d been tempted to take them out before he went to sleep but the hospital wasn’t a secure environment.  Doc couldn’t be moved to a SHIELD facility yet and he didn’t want to be caught napping.

The sound freaked him out; halfway between a whine and a snarl, like a wounded predator that still had some fight left.  He was awake and upright immediately, knife in hand, trying to locate the source of the noise. It was coming from the figure on the bed

_Awww Thor, no…._

He turned on the light, hoping that would wake him, but the Asgardian was locked deep in his nightmare; his fingers clenching into the fabric of the mattress, still making that gut-wrenching noise.  Waking him in this state could be dangerous.  The time Ainsley tried, the doctor only avoided taking a punch that could have shattered his ribcage because Thor had been facing the other way.  Clint didn’t want to chance his luck.  They’d just have to see this through...

_…They had changed the restraints since the last time.  Reinforced steel, padded so he could not try to open his veins on the metal.  His whole body went into spasms as jolt after jolt of electricity fired through him.  The cold faced man in the black suit adjusted the voltage on the device, giving it a couple of test shots so his prisoner could see the blue spark jumping between the prongs.  He had once been Master of the lightning now his captors had turned its power against him._

_“Let’s see if this can help you come up with something that makes sense” the man with the scar on his face looked at him with a hard, humourless smile “Any ideas where you want it next?”_

_There was still blood in his mouth from where they had wrenched out two of his teeth.  He mustered the strength to hawk a clot of blood and spittle into his torturer’s face.  The man wiped it off and threw it on the floor with an exclamation of disgust._

_“Okay Blondie” he growled “I’m going to enjoy this; you definitely won’t…”_

_He tried to twist his head away as the sparking came closer to his face.  The front of the scar-faced man’s skull exploded in a spray of blood and brains.  The cold-faced man turned, reaching for his weapon as a second shot took him square in the face.  He heard a soft, cultured, voice he did not recognise but which was still familiar_

_“Right, where do they keep their bloody keys?”_

_The small sandy-haired man was garbed differently from his torturers and he did not know him although he thought he should.  Had he been in the town with Eric Selvig and the others or was this some new form of torment?_

_The man unlocked his restraints_

_“We have a truck waiting outside, your friends have arrived.  We’re going to get you out of here.”_

_His legs buckled beneath him as the bonds were released.  Though short and slight the man somehow had the strength to hold him up, wiping the blood from his mouth.  It was a surprise to Thor, but strangely welcome, when he kissed him like a lover.  There was a fierce determination in the smoky grey eyes._

_“I will never let them hurt you like this again!”_

The whimpering snarls were fading along with the kicking and struggling.  Clint sat on the edge of the couch watching until Thor’s breathing returned to normal and he slipped into a deep dreamless sleep. Once sure Big Blond was fine he laid himself back down to grab a couple more hours.

###

“Did you see that?”

There was a note of urgency in her voice that woke Bruce from the light doze he’d slipped into

“Whuu…?”

“His hand just twitched, twice.”

The scientist looked over, there was no sign of movement now.  It could have been an involuntary muscle spasm, those weren’t uncommon.

“I’ll get the doctor to check him out, just in case.”

 

 


	15. Crime and Punishment Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline Tuesday 24th September 2013
> 
> Clint finally meets his son and the Avengers get a bit of good news at last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong language throughout

The drops made Clint’s ears sting but at least the inflammation was going down.  Dr Palmer’s opinion of him was clear; the words ‘idiot’ ‘fucking’ and ‘stupid’ appearing in various arrangements.  He was lucky not to get an infection, she wasn’t telling Steve only because it was the first time he’d been this careless.  Her instructions were clear; eardrops three times a day and give his ears plenty of rest, especially at night. 

If he didn’t feel comfortable having his hearing aids out around the hospital, he should take regular breaks at the Penthouse.  Fail to observe these instructions and she would report him for non-compliance with hygiene and safety protocols.  He’d taken a couple of hours out to have a sleep and grab a bit of gym-time before heading to his next destination.

Agent Hill paused, pass card in hand.  The man beside her radiated nervous tension.   

“Sure you want to do this?”

He took a deep breath and nodded

“Yeah, swipe me in.”

He walked into the room

“Hey Abel…”

The boy had asked to see him a couple of days ago, Tash had waited until she’d spoken to Steve and Fury before she told him about it. The two of them had been discussing the options available and had run them past Clint the night before.  None of them were great but some better than others, a lot still depended on whether Ainsley survived.  They’d finally started reducing the sedatives and were waiting to see if he would be able to breathe unaided.

He’d agreed to go in and speak to him, despite Tash’s misgivings.  She hadn’t expected Abel to ask so soon although they were making good headway in their conversations.  She had given him one piece of advice

“Be honest, even if it hurts.”

She warned him the boy was smart and sharp, and responded well to direct answers even if he didn’t like them.

“…I brought you the new Batman comic book, just out.  Tash said you liked it.”

The boy took the graphic novel off him.  He couldn’t read too good but with the help of the pictures he could make out most of the stories.

“Thanks, sir!”

The ‘sir’ made the hairs on the back of Clint’s neck rise.  He could remember addressing his own dad like that in the same dull tone, usually just before the fist or the belt came down. They were hardly on first name terms though, and the boy didn’t seem likely to call him ‘dad’ anytime soon.  He was about 5’8” and skinny but with a good width of shoulder.  By the time he’d finished growing and filling out he’d likely be near Clint’s size.

The eyes were his, so was the hair but with a bit of Tina’s red to it.  Nose and chin were all Tina’s.  He’d got a sullen look to him, like someone doing something they had to but didn’t want; taxes or the dentist.

_Wonder if I looked like that when I sat across from Phil the first time?  Wish he were here now._

“Woulda got you the hardback but they don’t allow them in here.”

“That’s cool, don’t often get a new one.”

He hadn’t known what to expect when he asked to see his dad; probably someone angry, defensive, eager to justify himself.  He was taller than Uncle Barney, leaner and fitter; like someone who spent a lot of time in hard physical action.  Uncle Barney talked and acted tough but this guy seemed controlled and dangerous, the real thing.  Miss Natasha said they worked together.  He wondered again what that ‘work’ was, he didn’t think it meant going door to door selling stuff.

The men who had met with Uncle Barney for ‘business’ were much the same.  Had that careful manner like they were checking out everything in the room while looking right at you.  This guy looked like he maybe smiled more but now he was kinda tired and down. Probably hadn’t slept much recently.  He put two steaming cups on the table.

“Got us coffee.  Coke gives me the jitters and it’s bad for your teeth.”

The boy didn’t say anything but just kinda glanced at the fistful of sugar packets sticking out of his pocket.

_He’s picked that look up from Tash._

“Coffee’s fine.  Looks like you need it.  How’s Dr Kerr doing?

Tash said he’d been asking about Ainsley every time they spoke.  He wasn’t sure if the boy was genuinely sorry for what he’d done or if he was just worried the kid-glove treatment would stop if the doctor died.  Clint poured sugar after sugar into his cup until it had the right amount of sweet sludge at the bottom. 

“They’re cutting down the sedatives.  If they can get him breathing without the respirator there’s a good chance he’ll be ok.  If not…”

He swallowed half the coffee in one go, wincing as it scorched the back of his throat.

“He your boyfriend?”  Miss Natasha had always been vague about his dad and the doctor, suggesting it was something he needed to ask him directly.  Clint nodded

“Yeah, sort of.  We’ve only been together a couple of months.”

“You gay?”

“Kinda bi, really” Tash had warned him to expect this.  He’d sorta been prepared for it or so he thought but saying it all out loud was another matter.  Only Fury, Hill and Stark were in the viewing room but these sessions got recorded and there was enough bad-mouthing of him already without Clint Barton’s sexual preferences being bandied about the mess halls.  SHIELD was still pretty much ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ about these things.

“It’s the first time I’ve been in a proper relationship with another guy.”

The boy’s grin was a bit malicious, he was enjoying making his dad talk about his private life with all his buddies listening.

“Ain’t no need to sound so embarrassed about it, don’t bother me none.”

_‘Be honest’ Tash had said_

“There’s another guy involved.  It’s kinda complicated.”

“He knows about the two of you?”  The boy didn’t seem that fazed.  Maybe after all the stuff Barney had told him about what he was supposed to be doing, a three-way with two guys was pretty straightforward.

Clint nodded again, his throat was dry and he could really do with a drink right now.        

“Yeah, he’s a buddy of mine.  We’ve served together, been through a lot.  He’s pretty broken up right now.”

The boy looked down at his hands. 

“He hate me as well?”

There was none of the teenage bluster and attempted bravado in that voice.  Clint heard the scared child and made up his mind.

“I don’t hate you, Abel.  He’s trying not to either.  I hate that I didn’t pull myself together and go find your mama when I coulda done.  If I had, then maybe none of us would be in this mess.”

“So, why didn’t you?”  The aggression was creeping back in, if this went wrong he might as well give up.

“Jacques DuQuesne beat me till I was almost dead, then he dumped me in a ditch ‘cause he didn’t have the balls to finish me off, wasn’t much older than you are.”

Telling it never made it any easier; lying there in the stinking water both legs broken and skull cracked, feeling himself getting weaker all the time.  Knowing he was going to die there, hoping he’d be dead before the rats decided to come along.  Docs said he wouldn’t have lasted another night if the hunters hadn’t found him.

“Got myself out of the hospital as soon as I could walk, lived pretty much wild after that; doing whatever I could to stay alive.  Did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of and wound up on some folks’ radar.  Ended up meeting a man who gave me a break, a chance to do something with my life.  Everything that came before that I buried.  Didn’t want nothing to do with it anymore.”

He looked the boy straight in the eyes.  Same colour as his, the greyish blue that seemed to be a Barton trait. 

“I was wrong.  I shoulda gone and tried to find your mama.  Would’ve done if I’d known about you.  Guess I figured she’d move on and find someone else.

“Yeah” Abel said, his voice was thick and choking “you shoulda, ‘cause she never did; even when she was with Uncle Barney.  That’s why she never let me call him dad, she said I had a real dad out there who was going to come back for me some day.  Said it right up ‘till she couldn’t say nothing anymore. Coulda had a real dad in Uncle Barney if it weren’t for you.  That’s when he said it was time I learned what a piece of shit you really were.”

The boy glared at Clint, feeling his face hot with anger and the tears pricking at his eyes.  He fought them back.  He’d cry in front of Miss Natasha but this fucker hadn’t earned the right to see Abel Walsh cry.

All the years of anger and hurt came spilling out if him.  Uncle Barney hadn’t needed to make up all that sick stuff about drugs and hookers and selling his dick to rich folks to pay for it.  He’d known his dad was a piece of shit for as long as he’d been able to see that look in Mama’s eyes at the end of another day when her Clint hadn’t come back for her. 

Buried it?  He’d buried her while she still had a chance to live.  Running around doing stuff and getting his second chance while Uncle Barney dragged them from place to place, upping and moving every time he thought they’d settled; never putting down roots or getting the chance to make friends or get proper schooling.  Never having what was needed for Mama when she started coughing all the time and getting sick.

With all the tricks he was learning and all his fancy spy friends he coulda tracked them down easy if he’d wanted.  Maybe this was worse than him just being some kinda sleazy man-whore, knowing he’d just never given them a thought because he’d ‘buried it’.

“Shoulda waited and stuck the knife in you instead, you’re the one that deserves it!”

Clint forced back his own tears, the words falling on his head and shoulders like punches as the boy’s grief and hatred poured out.  Hearing the truth in it was the worst part.  Any time he wanted, Fury or Coulson would’ve cut him the slack to try and find out what happened to Tina.  He coulda picked up the trail easy, found Barney, smashed his teeth down his backstabbing throat and taken back what shoulda been his.  Barney may have stolen it but he’d given up on it way too easy.

Abel sat back in his seat, breathless from yelling, and drained his now cold coffee.

“Ain’t you even gonna say anything? Get angry?”

Clint looked straight across at him, face set and eyes steady.  Through the two-way mirror Tony could see the assassin had his ‘game-face’ on, for some that face was the last thing they ever saw.

“Yeah, I’m angry!” he held up his hand to show the still healing scabs on his knuckles and there was a savage edge in this voice that made the boy flinch. “but I’m not gonna play Barney’s game and fire all that at you. I’m gonna save it until his lying mouth’s on the other end of this fist and see how smart he sounds when he’s shitting broken teeth.”

He lowered his hand and his shoulders slumped

“Most of all I’m angry at me though, cause every word you said’s the truth.  You and Tina shoulda been my world. I failed you both; you’re right to hate me for that and I ain’t got a right to ask anything else from you.  I can’t change what I’ve done and all the ‘sorrys’ in the world ain’t gonna make one bit of difference, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove Barney wrong I promise you I’ll do everything I can to help you out.  Even if you’re not willing, I’m still gonna do it.”

There was no trembling chin or whimpered ‘dad’; none of that end-credits TV movie shit.  The boy and the man stared at each other across the table, eventually the boy let out a heavy sigh

“I’m going to jail, ain’t I? Even if Dr Kerr don’t die.”

Clint sat back and folded his arms

“Maybe not, leastwise not regular jail.  You see, Dr Kerr’s connected with the same people Tash and I work for.  Going through the courts would attract attention none of us want.”

Abel looked back up at him.  There was a keen glint in his eyes

“You’re some kinda spies or something like that ain’t ya?”

Clint grinned, he couldn’t help himself

“Something like that, yeah.  So even if it was jail it’s be somewhere you’d get proper food, an education and wouldn’t have to worry about joining a gang just to keep safe.  Or there’s the same chance I got given.”

Abel leaned forward, interested despite the resentment and suspicion, wondering what the catch would be and if this ‘chance’ was something worth taking. 

“What’s that”

Clint took a deep breath.  Given what Abel had done, Fury and Steve were really sticking their necks out on this one. 

“Most of our recruits come through the military or college, but we got a boot camp program for gifted kids outside those systems.  It’ll be two years hard physical training and education.  No favours and no special treatment.  The ones that pass usually go straight to what we call the Academy for specialist training as agents and operatives.  Do the two years and you can do that, go to regular college or learn a trade.  I promise you’ll have my support in whatever you want to do.”

The boy looked doubtful for a moment

“Think you could swing that?”

Clint shook his head

“The offer don’t come from me, It’s from my boss and he’s one scary fucker.  But he and Tash think it’s worth the risk and I do too.”

Abel took a deep breath.  He’d spent sleepless nights imagining what was going to happen to him but the offer of going to a spy school had never been one of them. 

“I’ll do it for Miss Natasha, to try make up for what I done; don’t think I’m doing it for you.”

_And when I’m the best damn spy you seen, you and me’s gonna have a proper reckoning-up_

Clint shrugged

“Don’t care who you do it for, Abel. Just do your best.”

There was nothing much more to be said.  Time was almost up and they’d each said their piece. Dad/son small talk wasn’t on the conversation menu.  Maria Hill was waiting for him outside, she gave him a sympathetic look

“Well, that was…”

He grinned back at her

“Not what you’d call a Hallmark moment, was it?”

She weighed the options of how it could have gone down

“Probably the best you could have hoped for in the circumstances.  Tony and Director Fury are waiting in the office.  There’s some paperwork to sign, legal stuff.  The boy’ll need a legal guardian until he’s of age.  Tony’s offered to step in if you don’t feel…”

“It’s okay. May as well start on the right foot” Tony might be an annoying, arrogant prick but he was always willing to do what he thought was the right thing. 

Two agents passed them as they walked along the corridor, Field Ops.  One of them gave Clint the evil eye and he returned it with a hard, direct stare making the other man drop his gaze

_Not today, motherfuckers!_

He stopped Maria outside the office.  He liked her, she’d had his back a few times when he’d been in trouble at the Academy.  She’d gone through a rough time with the office gossip after Fury chose her for his second in command, usual stuff. 

“Thanks”

She looked at him questioningly

“For what?”

“Not hating me like the others.  I’m not exactly winning any popularity contests around here.”

She sighed.  It was almost two years since the Helicarrier and Clint had done a lot of good work since then but SHIELD was unforgiving of agents who went rogue regardless of the reason.

“I was on the bridge when you led the attack.  If I’d got a clear shot I would have taken it.”

That day was always going to stick with her; the deck tilting under her feet as the engines failed, Thor and Hulk tearing the hangar levels apart as they fought.  Not knowing what would take the ship down first or if any of them would make it out alive and in one piece.

“I saw that _light_ in your eyes and knew I wasn’t looking at the Clint I worked with, that something none of us could understand had been done to you.  Fury saw it too, so did Natasha.  None of the others who did survived.”

She wasn’t sure if either man was aware that Steve’s snap decision to take Clint on as pilot for the flight to New York had saved the archer’s life.  There were plenty on the Helicarrier willing and ready to throw him off the flight deck to see if the Hawk could fly, and not enough with the will to stop them.

“Was it really Loki who…?”

She didn’t let him finish the question. 

“You were nowhere near the detention sector when Phil was killed.  His death’s not on your hands.”

It was nice of her to say it, but he could tell she didn’t believe that. She always glanced off to the left when she lied.

The paperwork didn’t take long. One set of forms made Clinton Francis Barton the Legal Guardian of Clinton Abel Walsh, another gave parental permission for Clinton Abel Walsh to enroll in the SHIELD Field Ops Boot Camp Program.  Those would be countersigned by said Clinton Abel Walsh before he was given over to the custody of the Master Sergeant.  A local meth-head had ‘agreed’ to plead guilty to the attempted murder of Dr Ainsley Kerr in exchange for certain other charges being dropped.  Tony made a mental note for the man to be found a place on a decent rehab program.  Ainsley would expect that.

“Do you want a lift back to the Penthouse?” Tony asked “I didn’t see your junkheap in the parking lot.”

“Yeah, it’s rusting in your parking garage lowering the tone of the neighbourhood.  A lift would be great thanks.”

The car was one of Tony’s ‘specials’, wired into Jarvis so the AI could drive it automatically to the chosen destination by any preferred route.  Like the human quality of the computer’s voice it was another thing that freaked him out a bit. Tony was messing about on his tablet while the car drove itself

_One of these days he’s going to do something too clever for his own good_

Tony looked over at Clint and smirked, the archer’s knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests.

“Relax, Pidgeon.  Jarvis knows what he’s doing better than any of these dorks.”

Clint grimaced

“Yeah, that’s what worries me. So, what did you think of him?”

Tony slipped his tablet down the side of the seat and put his feet up on the dashboard, enjoying the way Clint gritted his teeth.  A harum-scarum ride through New York traffic was just what Legolas needed to take his mind off things.

“He’s going to have a rough ride at Boot Camp and Field Ops, especially once they know whose son he is.  It’s going to take a long time for him to earn any degree of trust.”

The billionaire’s tone was casual but it was clear he wasn’t just talking about SHIELD’s trust

“I’m not planning on taking him on a father/son fishing trip into the woods anytime soon if that’s what you’re thinking.  One Deliverance experience was enough for me.”

He looked over at Tony, the pain in the archer’s face cut the other man to the quick.

“The kid hates me Tony; and yeah, Barney was getting him prepped to ventilate my guts, only his psycho-grenade went off too soon.”

_Poor Doc got the knife that was meant for me. Yay! Another sight to see on the Hawkeye Guilt Trip_

“So, you’re sending him somewhere they’ll teach him how to kill you better?  That’s not smart, even for you.”

Two could play at this game. Clint put his feet up on the dash, hearing Tony’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of his grubby sneakers on the polished walnut and leather.

“I’m sending him to SHIELD.  I know you got issues with them, but for years they’ve been the only family I got and they turned me into the man I am.”

Stark pointedly took his feet off the dash and wiped it lightly with a cloth.

“Is that supposed to be a recommendation?”

The billionaire was getting sarcastic again, maybe there was good news at the hospital.

“I was just like Abel when Phil picked me up.  If I hadn’t taken his offer I’d be straight in jail, best case scenario I’d end up like one of those guys in the shelter you volunteer at on Thursday mornings when you tell us you’re getting manscaped.”

He laughed at Tony’s expression

“You got me and Tash living under your roof.  Think we wouldn’t find out?  SHIELD gave me something bigger to focus my anger on.  I’m hoping it’ll do the same for Abel.”

He gave in and took his own feet off the dash, pulling out a pack of wet-wipes and cleaning the dried mud off.  His face was grim and cold

“If it don’t then we’re going to end up looking at each other down a rifle and Barney’ll have won the game.”

He checked his phone, there was a text from Thor.  The Asgardian had been quick to pick up the texting habit but he still had issues with caps lock and autocorrect, which sometimes meant a bit of creative interpretation was required.  This one was fairly plain however.

**FLINT PLEASE COME TO THE HOSPITAL. AINSLEY MAY BE WALKING UP**

“Tony, turn the car around.  _Shit!_ ”

The car did a three-point turn in traffic without Stark putting a single finger on the wheel.  If they did that again it wouldn’t be mud he’d be wiping off the seat.

The others were waiting when they arrived, Ainsley’s doctor was there as well.  He was sure they didn’t really have anything on those clipboards.

“We’ve taken Dr Kerr off the ventilator and the good news is he’s breathing normally.  Currently he’s sleeping and we’re monitoring him closely.  As soon as he wakes up we’ll let you know.”

Thor’s arms were around him and he could feel the Asgardian sobbing with relief against his shoulder.  He was pretty sure his eyes weren’t too dry either, although he couldn’t be so sure who he was crying for.

Tony had gone back to the Penthouse of course, he didn’t have a good history with hospitals, but the others were camped out in the waiting room.  Ainsley woke twice, briefly, during the evening but they weren’t allowed to see him yet.  He was responsive but weak and disoriented, needing natural rest and sleep.  It was after midnight when Thor and Clint were allowed in for a few minutes.

“Hey guys.”  His voice was a hoarse, dry, whisper.  Thor took his hand and kissed it

“Do not try to talk, Little-Bug, you must rest and become strong again”

The funny pet name that had come to him seemed to surprise Ainsley

“Why…?”

Thor smiled and put a finger gently to his lover’s lips

“Shhh.  You are always like a little bug, so fussy and busy with everyone and everything.  But now you must rest and we will keep watch over you.”

He beamed up at Clint, the archer couldn’t remember seeing Thor look so happy for some time.  He bent over the doctor and kissed his forehead.

“Thanks for staying with us, Doc.  Our turn to stay with you.”

Ainsley felt like he’d been in a tumble-drier full of rocks.  Every bit of him ached, his throat was raw and his head full of fog.  He smiled up at the two men who sat protectively beside him as he began to slide back into sleep

_I’ve been having the most extraordinary dreams _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline: 1st Week of November 2013. Six weeks after the events of Getting to Know You Pt 3  
> Looking for answers sometimes ends up raising more questions.  
> A convalescing Ainsley starts recovering memories of his time under sedation after locking horns with Steve over the best course of action for Abel.  
> Tasha spreads the net wider as she searches for Barney Barton’s contacts in SHIELD  
> Steve has a couple of questions of his own to answer after accidentally witnessing Thor and Clint ‘sparring’ and Barney must rely on his wits to keep out of everyone’s reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if the mind can recall things heard under heavy sedation but – plot convenience!  
> Some graphic homo-eroticism

Ainsley prodded the contents of his plate with the tip of his fork, an expression of mild disgust on his face.  Dr Rosenbaum, the nutritionist, assured him that his diet had ‘the exact balance of protein, carbohydrates, minerals and vitamins to assist and optimise recovery.’ Taste and presentation had not apparently been considered.

“Would it kill you to find out if Misaki’s do a take-out menu, or even to bring a decent bottle of wine?”

Steve laughed.  Dr Kerr complaining about the food was a sure sign he was feeling better.  Once the doctor was awake and stable he had been moved to a SHIELD medical facility to complete his recovery in a secure environment.  It made it safer for the team to visit but had the disadvantage of being outside New York which meant a lot more travelling.

“No, but it might kill you.  Your insides are still healing up remember? Anyway, they tell me that diet was designed by NASA for astronauts returning from prolonged periods in space.”

The doctor gave him a withering look

“Well, I’ll remember to thank them next time I take the overnight to Venus.  Did they at least allow you to bring the files I asked for?”

Steve placed them on the bed

“You’re supposed to be resting, not working.  It’s going to be another week at least before they release you.”

Ainsley pushed the tray to one side and picked up the first of the files.

“I rest better when my mind has something to do.  Are these your final selections for the Project?”

Steve nodded; progress on the Academy Project had slowed while Dr Kerr was in hospital but he’d done some solid preliminary work and the soldier had been able to keep some of the momentum going, adding his own tactical evaluations and making some suggestions of their own.

“Just need your sign-off and Fury’s approval then we’re good to go to Phase 2.”

He smiled at the expression on the doctor’s face

“Don’t worry, we won’t be starting without you.”

Ainsley hesitated, shuffling through the files

“Have you spoken to Fury about the other matter?”

Clint had told him who stabbed him.  That had been a shock although not a great surprise in retrospect.  It appeared Barney had a habit of not doing his own dirty work where his brother was concerned.  From what Natasha and Tony told him it was clear he was getting the boy psyched up to kill his own father and had done a very amateur job of it, turning Abel into a dangerous loose cannon.  He suspected whoever Barney answered to would not be overly happy with the attention this had attracted.  It might be a bit of a race to see who got to him first.

Steve sighed, Dr Kerr was being annoyingly insistent. Stark was just as bad on the whole issue of Barton’s son and he could see them both trying to push the archer into going along with their point of view; extra pressure Barton really didn’t need just now.

“Dr Kerr, we’ve discussed this…”

“I know!” The doctor sounded exasperated and a bit petulant “But I’ve reviewed the Boot Camp protocols and there’s nothing there that addresses the kind of psychological issues the boy’s dealing with.  He was building up a stockpile of resentments long before his uncle tried a ham-fisted attempt at conditioning; Abel needs specialised therapy and increased interaction with his father to release those resentments in a controlled fashion and build up a genuine bond.  Tony agrees with me, neither of us think that a SHIELD environment is the best place for him in the present circumstances.”

He glared Steve over the rims of his glasses.

“Steve, this isn’t a personal view; I’m giving you my professional opinion on the matter.”

Abel had been in Boot Camp for six weeks and Clint hadn’t been to visit him once in that period despite having a legal right as his guardian.  The boy would cease to be a minor in two months’ time and from that point was under no obligation to have any contact with his father at all.  It wasn’t just his opinion, Tony and Natasha could both see the potential dangers in the situation.  It was all very good and noble of Steve to back Clint’s decision but surely, he had to see that it was the wrong one.

“You’ve already made your professional opinion perfectly clear several times, Dr Kerr!” Steve’s tone was sharp and the doctor jumped slightly.

“But even you have to admit that the conflict of interest here means your opinion can only be one of the options that Director Fury and I have under advisement.  In the meantime, I need you and Stark to stop trying to push Barton into one course of action just because it’s what the two of you want.  I want him to have all the options at hand when he makes his own decisions.”

There was a shocked look on Dr Kerr’s face.  He wasn’t used to the soldier speaking to him so abruptly.  Steve softened his voice; reminding himself the doctor was still recovering from a life-threatening attack and the trauma that went with it, frustrated from being stuck in this hospital room and anxious about his friends.

“I know you mean well, but this has to be Barton’s own choice.  SHIELD worked for him and he’s hoping it’ll do the same for his son.”

“SHIELD worked for Clint because he had Phil Coulson watching out for him the whole way, but Coulson…” the doctor seemed to go a bit vacant, as if his mind had wandered elsewhere “…Coulson’s dead.”

Steve was looking at him with concern. 

“Are you all right, Dr Kerr? Should I call the nurse?”

Ainsley shook his head, pulling his thoughts back to the present

“No, thank you.  I’m fine.” He looked up at Steve with of mild bewilderment then he let out a rueful chuckle. “Just someone walking over my grave.”

_Why was I about to say ‘Coulson didn’t get to the boy in time’?_

His expression became penitent

“I’m sorry, Steve.  I can be a control freak at times, one of my less endearing characteristics.  You’ve probably noticed this; I know Bruce has, he thinks I sometimes exercise a bit too much influence around the place”

He smiled at Steve’s surprise

“Bruce isn’t good at hiding his thoughts, very easy to read.  I suspect that’s why he often feels uncomfortable around me.”

Steve put a friendly hand on the doctor’s arm

“Bruce is just a bit paranoid about people getting in his head.  If I wasn’t happy about anything you’re doing I’d be the first to say, but I am serious about you not putting undue pressure on Barton.  I know you mean well and you’re probably right but this is something he needs to decide for himself.”

The pat he gave Ainsley’s hand served as an emphatic full stop to that conversation.

He left shortly afterwards, yet another meeting with Maria, but with the promise that Thor and Clint would be over later and spending the night in the guest suite next to the doctor’s room.  Ainsley skimmed through the files.  There one name he didn’t recognize; Sam Wilson, regular military with no pre-existing SHIELD connection.  Steve’s notes spoke highly of him so Fury’s approval shouldn’t be a problem.

He added his signature to the last page of each file and buzzed the security guard to put them in the lock-box for Steve to pick up tomorrow. 

Picking up the remote he surfed through one of the music channels until he found a decent recording of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 17.  As the sweep of violins filled the air he lay back and closed his eyes; clearing his mind and trying to reconstruct his memories.

Ainsley normally had excellent recall of his dreaming and waking lives so the current gaps were irritating.  His only real memory of the attack was the notion the boy had punched him, then seeing the blood soaking his shirt and thinking

_That’ll stain_

There were no ‘out of body’ experiences or looking down at himself of the operating table.  There had been dreams which were vivid but hard to grasp, doubtless due to the heavy sedation he’d been under.  Something about Granny Sophie and possibly Thor.

Thor had taken to calling him “Little Bug” which was sweet, but he couldn’t remember ever telling anyone his childhood nickname.  Possibly he’d been talking in his sleep although nobody had mentioned that.

He tried to concentrate on the image of Granny Sophie in the Great Hall at Wyndham House.  It felt important, that she’d been telling him things he needed to know.  All he could remember were fragments of the old stories she’d told him as a child and the memory of her grandmother’s brooch.  No, this was the wrong environment and the wrong time.  He needed to be home; secure and well before he could properly deep-dredge his psyche. 

Mozart alone wouldn’t do the trick; he’d need to apply the Feldermann Method, or maybe get Bruce to read to him some more.  He could recall bits of Isaak Walton being read in the scientist’s warm baritone as his consciousness drifted up from its medicated depths to linger near the bright surface before submerging again.  It was a pleasing memory that brought in its wake the recall of other, unfamiliar, voices.  A hard-sounding woman who had probably grown up speaking Chinese, and an older man whose soft voice was tinged with sadness. What was it the woman had said ‘…saved him like you did his father’?

 _Interesting_. 

###

In a motel room, somewhere in Vermont, Natasha sat cross-legged on the bed eating chocolate-chip cookie dough.  Photographs and scraps of paper lay around her in a wide semi-circle, every so often she re-arranged a few like cards in a Tarot spread looking for her own patterns of meaning.

Finding the cabin Barney and Abel had been living in over the summer proved to be easy and SHIELD had stripped it back to the beams looking for evidence.  What they found mainly fell under the heading of larceny.  Barney’s normal modus operandi was to set up as a jobbing gardener.  Houses where he and the boy worked had all reported robberies in the weeks following; mostly cash but some jewellery.  The latter could be traceable if they were lucky. 

Barney had cleared out with most of his stuff but had overlooked the boy’s belongings and Abel had been secretly mining scraps of information from his uncle’s collection of ‘intelligence’, stuck between the pages of comic books.

The earliest snippets were just under two years old, suggesting that the leaks began in the wake of New York and shortly after Clint became part of the Avengers.  There had been a lot of bad feeling about that, plenty of people would rather have seen him dumped on the lowest level of the Raft and the key thrown overboard. The obvious suspect was someone who had lost friends or family during the time Clint was under Loki’s control.  That was not a short list, neither was the list of people who might want to undermine the Avengers by taking out one of their more vulnerable members.

She could feel her frustration rising, the picture was too big and too much was missing.  She smiled thinly, remembering the time Thor had accidentally thrown out a whole bunch of pieces from Ainsley’s favourite jigsaw puzzle, one that he’d had since childhood.  She’d never seen the doctor so angry before; the big warrior had been in the doghouse until he and Clint spent a whole weekend scouring vintage toy retailers to find a replacement.

She swept the whole arrangement onto the floor with a snort of disgust.  Too few pieces, not enough connections.

_Connections_

She picked up her phone and dialled Maria Hill, cursing inwardly.  Looking for direct links had been a waste of time, nothing about this whole lethal game of was direct

“Maria?  I’ve got a list of names for you; I need to know if any of them or their known associates have ever been used as assets in the last two years.”

###

The fall knocked the breath out of Thor as he hit the mat. Clint landed heavily on top, hooking his arm under the Asgardian’s knee and briefly pinning him.  Thor gave him an impressed nod and then easily flipped the other man onto his back.

“This form of fighting is very effective; I am pleased you are teaching me”

Clint hooked his thumb into Thor’s armpit and pushed hard, breaking his grip.  He quickly spun around and had the big warrior in a neck hold.

“Speed and pressure points, Blondie.  Even a big guy like you can get taken down by the right combination.”

“So, are you telling me that size is not everything?” grinned Thor, twisting his head to lick at the archer’s bicep.

Clint winked and pushed his hips forward in response.  They’d been a bit shy of getting physical with each other for a while.  Thor didn’t feel it would be right to have sex while Ainsley was in a critical condition and the stress Clint was under had caused a few, thankfully temporary, ‘performance’ issues.

Now that Doc was well on the way to recovery he was feeling the itch again.  He’d been introducing the Big Blond to the world of UFC and hinted at teaching him some grappling techniques; knowing that a good sparring session was the best way of getting them both in the mood.

“Sometimes you just gotta know where to hit.” He nipped the back of the Asgardian’s neck with his teeth, the way the Big Blond often did in foreplay. “Gonna let me take point on this mission?”

Thor hesitated, Clint had asked this before.  The blond warrior had always been the dominant partner with Ainsley, as had Clint.  Between the two of them they had always found other forms of pleasure; the thought of allowing himself to be taken in that manner was intimidating yet intriguing.  The archer ran his tongue along the edge of his friend’s ear, knowing it was one of his sensitive spots.

“I… I am not sure…”

“C’mon Big Blond, something new for you to try” he whispered, hooking his free thumb into the waistband of Thor’s shorts and tugging gently downwards “I’ll let you return the favour afterwards”

Thor looked round at Clint, his heart pounding with excitement and apprehension

“You wish us to do it here?” He glanced up at the door to the locker room “What if someone comes in, and the security cameras?”

Clint nipped the back of his neck again and began to nibble his way along Thor’s spine.  The Big Blond’s shorts were halfway down his thighs by now. 

“I told Jarvis… to engage privacy mode… Tash’s out of town….  Steve’s over at the Hub…” He was pulling his own shorts down, already fully aroused.  The Big Blond was almost convinced.  If they broke to head up to the apartment it would give him time to change his mind.  Besides, the idea they might get caught just spiced it up.

_No time like the present, Hawk!_

“Tony… and Bruce… are busy in the lab…  No-one… else… is… around…”

Thor groaned and arched his back as the archer’s tongue found its mark and went to work, sending ripples of pleasure through his belly.  He was still uncertain but if he was going to permit himself to be taken it could only be by a brother warrior like Clint; and what he was doing just now felt very good…

…He raised himself up on his elbows, looking round at Clint as he moved into position; feeling the pressure against him, warm and insistent.

“Clint…” a hungry, pleading look in the blond warrior’s bright blue eyes.  The archer grinned

“It’s ok, Big Blond.  I’ll take it easy.”

Thor gritted his teeth and tried to relax as the pressure increased.  Clint leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his chest and pushing gently.  Thor could not hold back a sharp cry as his friend entered him.

“Clint! Please… It hurts…”

Clint nipped the back of Thor’s neck with his teeth again, harder this time, to give the warrior something else to focus on

“Just breathe and relax, Blondie, always hurts a bit at first.  I’ll hold still till you’re ready”

Thor swallowed hard and nodded; biting his lip as he pushed his hips back slightly…

…his forehead rested on his clenched fists, short grunting breaths in time with Clint’s steady thrusts.  This felt… strange, uncomfortable but not unpleasant, hitting something inside that sent sparks of electricity through him.

“You okay Blondie?  Need me to slow down?” He could see the muscles in the warrior’s back twitching as his body adjusted to the unaccustomed sensations.  Big Blond was taking it well for a first timer.

Thor shook his head emphatically, sweat running down his face.

“Harder….” He gasped.  Clint grinned broadly

_Damn, gonna make a power-bottom out of you yet!_

He wasn’t going to last much longer.  What with it being so long since they’d messed around and the excitement of taking the Asgardian like this for the first time, he could feel his climax approaching.  Big Blond wanted it harder?  Time to ride the bull!

He grabbed Thor’s long hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling his head up as he drove in deep and fast.  Thor roared in pain and lust, forcing his hips back as Clint felt the mounting surge of orgasm

“Awwww Fuuuck!”

His whole body spasmed four, maybe five, times and he fell forward panting on Thor’s back.  The two of them collapsing into a sweaty heap on the sparring mats.  Thor was breathing heavily, eyes wide, with a look of satisfied astonishment on his face.  Clint rolled off him and grinned

“Ready for your turn?”

The other man nodded enthusiastically.   A noise from the locker room had both on their feet, urgently pulling up their shorts.

###

Agent Hill had rescheduled their meeting, some unexpected business had come up, so he’d decided to return to the Penthouse and relax for a while.  A couple of hours with weights and punchbag ought to do the trick. 

He’d heard a noise from the gym as he finished getting changed.  He’d thought no-one else was around, and none of the Stark Industries R&D or security staff normally used the place at this time.  He moved quickly to the door and cracked it open a fraction of an inch.  At first, he thought the two of them were sparring. Barton had been talking about teaching Thor some Brazilian martial art recently, then he began to realise what he was seeing.

_Oh, God! They weren’t, were they?_

His hand was on the door, ready to march in and yell them both out.  This was beyond inappropriate; this was public indecency.  It was…

 _…kind of exciting_.

This was worlds apart from the stuff Barton had tried to show him on the internet, brightly lit men and women in fanciful scenarios, going through the mechanics of sex – he had watched some of that in his quarters, even masturbated to it a couple of times, but it made him feel cheap and dirty – this was something different, animal and intense like watching two wild beasts mating on a nature show.   It didn’t even seem to matter that it was two guys. He could feel his own sense of arousal growing, breath becoming shallower and faster and his hand instinctively sliding towards the waistband of his shorts.

Steve’s hand moved fast, his breath sharp and quick as he watched Barton’s hips buck and his body tensing, heard Thor’s thunderous roar.  The moment of orgasm was visible, every muscle tightening and flexing as he cried out and slammed hard into the bigger man.  Steve felt his own convulsion, the sudden release and the warm splash on his stomach and chest.

He hurriedly wiped himself off with a towel and made a show of banging about in the locker room before opening the door.  Thor and Barton stood side by side, looking flushed and sweating.  They’d covered themselves up but the Asgardian’s erection remained obvious while the displaced mats still showed the evidence of their ‘sparring session’

“Uh... good match, guys?”

Clint scratched the back of his head, Steve looked a bit red himself.  Had he seen them?  Nah, he would’ve gone ballistic.

“Yeah, not bad.  Just gonna hit the shower and grab a rest before we head over to see Doc.” He gave Thor a swat on the bicep.

“C’mon Big Blond.  You still got some ‘packing’ to do”

Thor grinned and followed him to the showers.

Steve started strapping up his hands, prepping himself to work off some steam on the punchbag, still incredulous at what had happened in front of him and his own reaction to it.  Despite Barton’s jokes he wasn’t naïve about sex or even particularly prudish.  Even in the 1940s, people had sex and talked about having sex, but for most of his life Steve Rogers had been a skinny, frail, asthmatic wimp; the type of guy a woman was kind to at best.  He had never learned to be easy around girls, to know the right things to say, to pick them up and discard them with the ease of the bigger, stronger, more confident men around him. 

The Super-Soldier serum had given him size, strength and speed, but how to date girls hadn’t been part of the training.  Sure, they had thrown themselves at Captain America, he could have had a different one every night; heck, every hour if he’d wanted, but there was only girl that Steve Rogers wanted and that opportunity had knocked too late, lost when he went into the ice. So yeah, Barton was right, he was the Virgin Soldier.  He knew he liked girls, so he wasn’t gay; but this had just shown him that guys could get him excited as well so was he like Barton? Into both?  That might not be too bad, although the archer’s previous track record of casual promiscuity didn’t sit well with him.

Maybe he should speak to someone about it, Natasha perhaps?  That would be a fun conversation starter

_Oh hey Natasha! I jerked off watching Barton have sex with Thor and now I’m a bit confused about my sexual identity_

Steve sighed and threw another punch.

###

He’d been on the move for almost a month, running out of resources and ideas, ever since he heard that his associates wanted to talk to him about the ‘complications’ caused by the kid stabbing that faggy Brit.

He had the idea this talk wouldn’t be round a barbeque with a few beers, unless of course he was hanging by his wrists over the coals.  He’d seen what these guys did, helped a few times.  Didn’t fancy being on the receiving end.

There were a couple of his drop-boxes that could be still be safe to approach but the problem was getting there without being seen either by them or by SHIELD. 

Travelling by bus mostly, getting on and off at rural stops where there wasn’t likely to be anyone watching or any CCTV.  Hotwiring a car would be easier but too big a risk of getting on some law enforcement radar, leading them right to him.  Do that and he might as well just start ripping his own teeth out with pliers to save them all some time. 

The kid had really fucked things up, running off like that and stirring up trouble.  His associates wanted everything discreet until they were ready to move.  The fuckup in the woods had been bad enough but he’d been able to smooth that over with a bit of effort.  This had got too many people looking and asking awkward questions. 

Taking down Clint had been part of some bigger plan.  If that had gone without a hitch it didn’t matter to them that he was just looking forward to the expression in little brother’s eyes when his own baby boy stuck the knife in and twisted.  Payback for all the time his smart fucking mouth brought down dad’s fist or got them put on punishment at the county orphanage.  Payback for trying to betray Uncle Jack and for spoiling things with Tina.

Finding out he was still alive and with some SHIELD was a bad day until he figured it was his chance to get some real sharp closure.

Well, he may not have much now but he had that motivation at least.  Using the boy had been a sweet idea, but nothing would beat gutting Clint with his own hands.  As long has he kept that thought alive and moving him he had a chance to stay free and clear.


	17. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline – Saturday 16th/Sunday 17th November 2013  
> A big celebration isn’t always the best plan.  
> The team have a night of intimate conversations as they avoid an unwanted welcome-home party for Ainsley. Emotions and concerns are shared and a surprise question is asked.  
> Thor still has problems with autocorrect and getting between a Hawk and his coffee is never a good idea.  
> Natasha faces a dead end on the hunt for Clint’s brother, until a message arrives from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight sexual references

Ainsley was awake, still fully dressed on top of the covers, when Thor came in to the apartment.  He didn’t need to sleep but the homecoming party upstairs was a little too exhausting.  Tony could go over the top when it came to celebrating.  The doctor didn’t want to appear ungrateful but, honestly, he would have preferred it to be only the team.  After two months in hospital it was welcome enough just to be back with the people he loved. 

Thor kicked off his boots, placing them carefully on the rack beside the door, poured them both a glass of wine and came through to the bedroom.

“I brought this for you” he said, handing Ainsley his drink. “I know it is one you like”

He breathed in the aroma, one of his favourite Patagonian Malbecs; rich, earthy and complicated.  Thor sat down on the bed and kissed him, a deep, intense kiss that lasted for a long time.

“I missed you so very much”

Ainsley smiled and stroked his face.  His lover had been with him every day in the hospital but he knew what he meant.  This was the first time since he’d kissed him goodbye on the mission to Central America that the two of them had been properly alone together.

“I missed you so very much as well, Snuggie Bear.  It’s just not been the same without having you beside me.”  He ran his hand through Thor’s hair “You make me feel safe”

The Asgardian leaned over and kissed him again, enjoying the taste of the wine on Ainsley’s lips.  Even after he had been assured that the young doctor would live and make a full recovery, his absence from their home had left Thor feeling alone and diminished.  Clint was a brother warrior, but the love and companionship they shared was nothing compared to what he felt for this small, wise, man who had come to him when he was lost and without hope.

“It is you who make me feel safe, Little Bug.  Your love is the beacon that calls to me in the night.”

He was trying not to cry, wanting only to be happy that Ainsley was with him again, but could not hold it back any longer.  Wrapping his arms around the other man he held him as tight as he dared.

“I thought I was going to lose you.  I could not bear it” His voice trembled and his whole body shook with emotion.  Ainsley laid his head against Thor’s shoulder.  He was weeping as well, letting his own feelings of relief and gratitude take over.

“I’ll always be with you in here.” He said, placing his hand over the Asgardian’s heart.  He looked up into Thor’s eyes “Neither of us know how much time we’ll have together, but I will never leave you.”

Thor touched the Mjolnir pendant around his neck, the gift from his lover he would treasure till his last day.

“Nor will I ever leave you, Little Bug.  Even if Asgard calls, I swear I will always return to you while there is breath in this body. No man or woman will take your place in my heart for as long as I live”

It was as close as they could come to admitting the painful truth.  Thor’s great lifespan meant Ainsley would grow old and die long before the Asgardian had even begun to show the appearance of aging and no craft of Midgard or Asgard could ever change that.

They were silent together for a time, kissing and holding each other close, having gone past the need for words to express their feelings.  After a while Thor got up and poured them some more wine

“Would you like to go back up to the party?” he asked

Ainsley shook his head with a smile

“No thanks! this is all the homecoming I need, a bottle of good wine and you.”

Thor hesitated before he spoke again. 

“Could I ask Clint to join us?  He said it should just be the two of us, but I think he was only saying that to be kind.  I do not want him to feel alone, especially tonight.”

The Asgardian did not want to say, but he was worried about Clint.  Since Ainsley was attacked, the archer had become increasingly withdrawn, his moods often dark and solitary.  He had left the party even before them, clearly uncomfortable with so many strangers around.  Perhaps if he were with the two of them it would be better for him.  Ainsley took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze

“It’s your call, Snuggie Bear; but I would love to have you both with me if you don’t mind.”

Thor swallowed a mouthful of wine and grinned.  Perhaps he could afford to be a _little_ selfish

“I will ask him to bring another bottle down when we have finished this one.”

###

Clint was in his ‘nest’; the small platform at the summit of Stark Tower where he was certain he could be sure of solitude.  No-one except for the maintenance teams had come up here since the Portal Device was removed and he doubted that anyone else would know how to find the access stairs.  He’d found his way here through the ventilation ducts and claimed it for his own, stashing some camping gear and supplies so if he wanted he could sleep out on the coldest of nights.

The night was mild for mid-November, not exactly t-shirt and shorts weather but he could get away with jeans and a thick hoodie.  He’d unrolled the sleeping bag and lay back staring up at the sky, too much light pollution to see the stars but he tracked the lights of the planes passing overhead; trying to guess origin and destination by the angles of approach and descent.  Clint had been spending a lot of time alone up here recently, trying to sort his head out and get away from the good advice that everyone seemed determined to pile on him. 

Yeah, he should be trying to connect with Abel but he had no idea how to.  His only meeting with the boy hadn’t left many openings for father/son bonding and there had been no request for another visit.  Honest truth? He was scared of turning up and getting blocked.  Maybe it was best leaving it up to Tasha to try and make another opening for him to try again.  He could see in her eyes she agreed with Stark and Doc but at least she was leaving him alone about it for now.  Thor? He could see the way the Big Blond looked at him; worrying but unable to find the words to express his concern. 

He sighed and pulled his hood up to keep his ears warm and block out some of the sounds drifting up from the party down below.  Usually this was one of the few places he felt safe without his hearing aids but tonight he wanted to be on alert.  The sound of the access panel opening had him up in a crouch with his knife in his hand, ready to strike.

“Hey Barton! Easy!”

It was Steve, coming through carefully with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.  Clint relaxed slightly but his face showed his annoyance.  This was his alone space.

“How’d ya find me, Cap?”

Steve held out the bottle as a peace offering.  Normally he would never have intruded on Barton when he wanted to be alone but the archer had looked out of sorts all evening and he wanted to be sure he was ok.

“You weren’t in your apartment or with Dr Kerr.  Just left one place really.  Drink with me?

Clint heard the faint slur in Steve’s voice

“Cap, are you drunk?” the soldier’s face was flushed and he was grinning a bit too broadly. 

“Been putting a dent in Tony’s rare single malts, payback for throwing a party none of us wanted.  I’m going to have one hell of a head in a couple of hours.”

Dr Erskine’s serum had speeded up his metabolism to four times that of a normal human being.  Despite the joke to the contrary he could get drunk; it just took him a lot more alcohol and lasted less time.  Unfortunately, it also meant the hangover came that much sooner

Clint laughed and opened the bottle.  He took a slug and looked at the label. 

“Holy Shit! This stuff is over $1500 a bottle! How many have you had?”

Steve looked a bit sheepish and held up three fingers.  Clint laughed again and high-fived the soldier

“Glad to be your partner in crime, my man!  Don’t tell me I’m finally being a bad influence on you?”

Steve sat down on the floor with his back to the barrier.  He looked up at the night sky above.  This was where Loki had used the Tesseract to rip open the sky, unleashing the Chitauri on New York.  Shivering a bit at the memory he took the bottle from Clint and had a swig. 

“Maybe it’s about time someone was…”

Clint sat down beside him.  He’d never seen Cap like this, the guy clearly had something on his mind.

“You okay, Steve?” The soldier laughed

“That’s the question I came up to ask you.  You’ve been a bit too quiet tonight for my liking.”

Clint shrugged

“Like you said, none of us except Tony wanted this party.  Just gotta show enough face so he doesn’t get the huff, then make like a banana”

Steve looked bemused

“And split.” Explained Clint “You had that expression in the ‘40s, right?”

“Probably, just never heard it before.  Tasha and Dr Banner took off a while back, Thor’s just headed down to keep Dr Kerr company.” He swallowed some more whiskey and glanced at Clint “You not joining them?”

Clint shook his head

“Nah, giving them some alone time tonight.”

Steve frowned, deep down inside him that just felt plain wrong

“Clint, you always gonna be happy to take second place?”

The archer looked up in surprise.  Steve didn’t use his first name and never talked that bluntly about the personal relationships in the team, the guy must be drunk!  Well, he’d asked…

“Truth? I don’t think about it like that.  There’s me and Doc and there’s Doc and Thor.  He was with Thor first so I gotta respect that and let them have their space.”

The soldier shrugged passed the bottle back across to Clint

“Sorry, still sounds like second place to me.  Just hope maybe you’ll find someone who’ll give you first place all the time.”

He lapsed into a thoughtful silence and Clint took another couple of swigs.  Just when he thought life couldn’t get any weirder he’d got a drunk Cap trying to give him relationship advice.

“Can I ask you something Clint? Tell me to shut up if you don’t want to answer.”

Clint hesitated, not sure of the direction the conversation was going to take and uncertain if he wanted to go wherever it was going.  Oh well, he didn’t have much planned for tonight, might as well take the plunge

“Sure Steve, fire away”

“Do you think I might be bisexual?”

_Whoa!!! That came out of nowhere!_

He took a long drink of the scotch and passed it back to Steve, weighing up how to respond.

“I dunno Steve, what makes you ask?”

The bigger man’s face was the colour of a tomato.  He put down the bottle and took a deep breath

“The other day.  You and Thor were in the gym… I kinda saw you.”

It was Clint’s turn to go bright red

“Oh fuck!  Cap, I’m sorry, it’ll not happen again…”

Steve raised a hand to shut him up

“It’s not that, although if you could keep it in the bedroom from now on that’d be great.  It’s just, while I was looking, I…”

“Ohhhh!” exclaimed Clint, realising what Steve was talking about “It flicked your switch?”

The soldier nodded, too embarrassed to respond; hoping Barton wouldn’t make some sleazy joke or, worse, try and hit on him.

“That ever happen to you before?”

Steve shook his head.  He’d heard about guys getting it on the army, buddies helping each other out if there were no girls around, but it was something he’d never considered.  Okay; maybe he’d thought about it with Bucky once or twice but, he’d have been too scared to ask a girl, let alone his best buddy.  Even touching himself felt kinda wrong and dirty.  Mama said it was something only bad boys did.

“Didn’t never think about it.”

Clint grinned, despite himself, he’d hung around Doc and his psych talk long enough to catch the double negative.  Cap was going to regret this conversation when he sobered up in an hour or so but he had to give the guy some kinda way out, it was clearly bugging him deep down and tonight wasn’t the best time to talk about it.

“Neither did I until the first time it happened.  Musta been about 17, hiding out in a squat near Buffalo.  Got high with these two cute goths and ended up in the sack with them.  By the time I realised one was a guy I was too horny to care.”

He patted Steve on the shoulder

“Point is, Cap, I ain’t got a magic 8-Ball to say if you are or not.  Maybe you were just mega-horny and Thor and I put on a good show, you gotta go with what your gut says is right for you.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed

“For a psychologist, you make a great assassin!”

Clint thumped his arm with a mock-frown

“Talk to me when you’re sober if you want proper advice, ‘cause Drunk Cap is freaking me out.”

Steve grabbed Clint’s hand and held it hard, staring at him intensely

“Find someone who’ll give you first place, man! You deserve it!”

Clint’s phone buzzed, a text from Thor.

_Thanks Blondie!_

**CLIENT, PLEASE COME AND JOHN US TONIGHT. BRING WINE <B T**

He freed his hand from Steve’s grip and patted his face.

“I gotta go; drink plenty water, Cap.  You’ll thank me in a couple of hours.”

###

Bruce kissed Natasha’s shoulder

“You’re still very tense” he whispered in her ear. She rolled over to face him

“Too many people around tonight, and just now I don’t trust anyone who isn’t us.”

He pushed a few strands of hair back from her face.  Her eyes were serious, troubled.  Normally the hours they had together were times when she felt she could relax for a little but recently even Bruce’s company didn’t dispel the anxiety.

“Do you really think it’s that bad?” He knew that trying to trace the links between SHIELD and Barney Barton was uncovering a troubling maze of misdirection and dead ends within the secretive intelligence organization, above and beyond what they already took for granted.

“I think it’s worse than we can imagine” she admitted with a heavy sigh “SHIELD’s compromised, I can feel it and so can Fury I’m sure; but without hard proof or any clear leads all we can do is keep our eyes open and watch each other’s backs.”

Bruce propped himself up on one elbow, trying to remember a time when pillow talk didn’t involve intrigue on a Byzantine scale.

“Have you spoken to the others?”

She shook her head

“Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t trust spies full stop.  Tony and Ainsley work with SHIELD; not for it. They don’t have the inside feel and to be honest they’re already ambivalent enough about it to be on their guard.  As for Clint, despite SHIELD turning its collective back on him he still feels the need to believe that it works, especially now that he’s relying on them to fix Abel the way he thinks they fixed him. He’d listen to me but he wouldn’t want to believe me and right now it would just screw with his mind.”

He raised an eyebrow

“You don’t think SHIELD fixed Clint?” There was a faint hint of sarcasm in his voice

“They made him functional and Coulson held him together but he’s still a mess inside.  You weren’t around him in the weeks after New York. Even once he’d come through clearance and debrief we had him on unofficial suicide watch for over a month.  Everything that’s happened recently has just brought it all back to the surface. If it wasn’t for Ainsley and Thor giving him some sort of stability I think he’d lose it completely.”

Bruce smiled, if he were a lesser man he’d be jealous of the closeness between Nat and Clint.  The two of them could fight like tomcats but shared an emotional intimacy and understanding born out of what they had been through together.  She’d told him of the one time they tried to take things to a physical level; an embarrassing and awkward encounter in a cheap hotel room in Buenos Aires, thankfully interrupted by the soldiers of the Bolivian druglord they were tailing, and a running gun battle through the back streets dressed only in their underwear.  Frankly, he could have lived without the mental image of Clint in Batman briefs. 

“So where does that leave us?”

She drew him towards her and kissed his forehead. 

“We’ll do what we always do, take each moment that we get and make the most of it.”

He put his arms around her

“Natasha Romanoff, have I told you that I love you today?”

She looked at the clock

“It’s 1am so no, not today so far.” Her expression became serious again “If things go bad, we need a contingency to get you deep off-grid”

He bent his head and brushed her breast with his lips

“Let’s save that conversation for a different moment.”

###

Like most of Tony’s parties this one looked like it would be going strong until the early hours of the morning at least.  It took all of Clint’s stealth training to get down to the pantry without being dragged onto the dancefloor, playing a few rounds of beer-pong or ending up in the hot tub.  He had managed to overhear Tony and Pepper having a shouting match in Tony’s study which didn’t bode well for later but he accomplished his mission, extracted two bottles of vintage red and a Tennessee Sour Mash for himself then headed down to home base.

Thor and Ainsley were in bed talking when he arrived. Putting the bottles down on the nightstand he quickly stripped of and climbed in with them.  His face fell as he saw the scars on the doctor’s pale slim torso.  He traced one gently with a fingertip

“Those were meant for me Doc, I’m so sorry.”

Ainsley pulled his head down and kissed him

“This is not your fault” he whispered in the archer’s ear “I’ll not let you blame yourself for this”

Thor’s mouth was on his now; the Asgardian’s tongue was rough, raspy like a cat’s and the way he kissed could melt rock.

“You bear too many burdens, my warrior brother” Thor’s voice was low and fierce “Let us help you carry them and see them set down where they truly belong.”

Clint looked at them both, seeing the love and the concern in the way they both regarded him.  He couldn’t think of anyone who had ever looked at him that way, not even Tina or Laura, loving him for who he was; not some expectation or fantasy of what he ought to be.  Steve was wrong, this wasn’t second place.

“Awww guys…” his voice was breaking “I’m such a fucking mess, why’ve you gotta be so good to me?”

They held him in their arms as he sobbed out the grief and pain of the past weeks.  He could hear Doc’s gentle voice in his ear

“We’ll be your wings, Hawk. Don’t be afraid, we’ll be here to hold you up.”

###

It looked like some of the after-party had spilled down into the living area.  That pissed him off. Okay, it was still Tony’s penthouse but they kinda had an unspoken agreement that this part was their private space and off-limits to casual guests.

Clint shovelled coffee into the machine and switched it on then started hunting for an unused mug, or at least a fairly clean one.  The voice behind him made him jump

“Hey man!  You making enough for two?”

He turned, a tall African American guy in his early 30’s was getting up from one of the couches where he’d been sleeping. 

“Sorry man” he smiled “didn’t mean to scare you.  Crashed out last night and when I woke up there was no-one around I knew.  Figured I’d just put my head down here rather than go wandering.”

He held out his hand

“Name’s Sam Wilson, I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

Clint stared at the extended hand for a second then shook it

“Clint. I’ll find another mug.”

Number one rule in the Penthouse was “Except in the case of an imminent world-ending event, do NOT attempt any form of communication with Barton before he’s had his first coffee of the day.”

“So, I’m guessing you live here?” the man called Sam continued, blithely unaware that getting between a mother bear and her cub was usually deemed safer than what he was currently doing “You work for Mr Stark?”

“Yeah, security stuff,” grunted Clint, desperately willing the coffee to drip through faster and hoping that he’d managed to somehow learn telepathic communication at some point during the night

_Shutupshutupshutupshutupwillyoushutup_

“Must be a 24/7 job with a guy like Stark” Sam was clearly a morning person and immune to the archer’s subtle hints “No wonder he’s got you living on the premises.  That man throws some wild parties.”

“Sure does.” Coffee was almost there, not long now…

“Bit too wild for my taste.” He laughed, looking slightly embarrassed “To be honest I only came because I thought there might be a chance some of the Avengers would be here.”

Clint threw him a sidelong glance.  If the guy was a friend of Steve’s he was probably okay, although he wasn’t aware of Steve having any friends under the age of 90.  Having a total stranger come out with something like that set all his alarm bells ringing. 

“They keep a pretty low profile.” He’d got the coffee jug in his hand now.  There was still a bit dripping through onto the hotplate but having something heavy, glass and full of scalding liquid in his hand made him feel more comfortable in case things got nasty.

“For sure, yeah.  Saw a couple of guys I thought might be Thor but it’s hard to tell.  Every big blond dude seems to be working that look these days.” He saw the jug in Clint’s hand. “Great, coffee!  Just black no sugar for me.”

Clint filled a mug and shoved it over then filled one for himself, topping it up with half a dozen heaped tablespoons of sugar.  Sam grinned

“Damn, that’s some rocket fuel you got going there.  Must really need it after last night.”

“Yeah” came the short reply and Clint started swallowing the steaming, sickly mixture down, waiting for the sugar and caffeine rush to kick in.

Sam took the chance to study the guy in front of him as he drank his own coffee.  Just under 6’, lean and tough with more than his fair share of scars.  Looked like he’d seen some heavy combat, probably ex special forces if he was one of Tony Stark’s personal security contingent.  Wasn’t coming across as being too friendly but then that probably came with the job description.

“So how do you know Steve?” Clint asked, the coffee starting to unglue his social skills.

“Through the Veteran’s Association Home in Washington” Sam explained “I do some voluntary work there, helping out with PTSD counselling.  Steve visits some of the older guys a lot.  We got talking and he’s got me helping out with a couple of projects he’s working on.”

Just ‘cause this guy worked for Stark he couldn’t risk assuming he knew about this Academy Project that Steve had persuaded him to sign up for.  Truth be told he didn’t know that much about it himself but it sounded different and he felt like having a bit of different in his life.

“So, living here you must see the Avengers around quite a bit?” He knew he was sounding dangerously like a fanboy but this was an opportunity like this might not come up again. “Was kinda hoping I might bump into Hawkeye last night, maybe get some marksmanship tips.  Hear that guy’s the best there is.”

He saw the look in the other man’s eyes when he mentioned Hawkeye.  Bad blood between them perhaps?  He’d heard the guy had a bit of a rep because of something that had happened before the Battle of New York. As far as Sam was concerned what he’d done since should’ve pretty much cancelled that out.

“Like I said, they keep a low profile apart from Stark” He was fixing tea for Thor and Ainsley, trying to figure out some way of getting rid of this chatty newcomer.  This Sam might well be on the level but his insistence was putting Clint on edge and he was paranoid enough as it was. “Privacy’s pretty important to them.”

“Sure man!” Sam’s smile was apologetic “Didn’t mean to push.  You probably signed all sorts of non-disclosure stuff.”

“Yeah, something like that.” He was being a jerk and he knew it, but making chirpy morning small talk with the team wasn’t high on Clint’s list of favourite things at the best of times. Being bright and breezy with a total stranger didn’t even get near the top 100.  Luckily, he could see Steve coming out of the elevator.  The soldier blushed a bit when he saw Clint; yeah, he remembered their conversation from last night.  They’d need to have a proper talk later.

“I gotta take these down to some people” he said, putting the mugs on a tray. “Speak to you later, Steve.”

Sam watched as the archer retreated to the stairs, as the door closed he turned to his friend

“Somehow I don’t think that guy likes me.”

Steve laughed

“Clint’s not a morning person, and he gets pretty nervous around folk he doesn’t know.  Stark throwing that party put him on edge a bit.”

“You think?” replied Sam with a raise of his eyebrows “Didn’t seem to be the only one.  Most of Stark’s people were gone well before midnight.”

He paused, unsure if what he was about to say would seem out of order

“That guy getting counselling? Cause he’s in serious bad shape.  Stark had better not be putting too much pressure on him right now…”

Steve nodded. Sam was good at what he did; almost as good as Dr Kerr in his own way.

“He’s got someone he sees regularly.  Just been a lot of tension around here lately; last night wasn’t the best time to have you over.  Once things are a bit calmer I’ll invite you back and we can do some proper introductions...”

He grinned and patted his friend on the back

“…might even persuade a couple of the Avengers to show face.  Let’s go grab some breakfast and I’ll see you to the airport”

###

Natasha had left the Penthouse early, hoping that a morning run would clear her head.  The trail to Barney Barton had gone cold again.  One promising lead had come up in the form of the girlfriend of an associate who’d been providing information on a weapon smuggling racket across the Mexican border, but she’d gone missing some months ago, and the agent who was handling her checked out.  She hadn’t closed the book on that one yet, but unless they could get a trace on the woman it might as well be a dead end.

The same had happened with the surveillance of Dr Osario and her staff.  Clint’s trauma counsellor had been a prime suspect to begin with, but her involvement with him was too recent and there was nothing to link her with anyone who had a connection to Barney.

She’d nicknamed it ‘Project Sisyphus’ after the figure in Greek mythology condemned to roll a giant stone up a mountainside, only to have it forever slip his grasp and roll back down to the bottom just before he completed the task.  Clint’s need to close the book on his brother she could understand, but it was beginning to feel like a distraction. 

Barney was a problem requiring a solution, that much she would admit, but trying to solve it was taking up too much of the team’s energy and causing them to lose sight of the bigger game being played.  Of course, it would help if they had an idea of what the bigger game might be.  If getting the Avengers paranoid and on edge was part of it, then it was succeeding. 

As she completed her third lap Tasha had to acknowledge they might have to let this one go on the back burner for the time being.  Fury assured her he had his most trusted people working the leads and until something solid came up all they had was empty speculation.  Clint wouldn’t be happy; he was itching for a showdown but there was no point in throwing punches at empty air, besides she wasn’t convinced that having him involved in his brother’s takedown would be wise or even safe.  It felt like that would be playing into Barney’s hands one way or another. 

The guy had gone completely off the radar, that could mean someone else had got to him first or he was smarter than they thought.  Either possibility took them into dangerous territory.  As she launched into her fourth lap she felt her phone vibrate.  She glanced at the message ID; Trickshot?!

**Hey Little Red! Bring Uncle Buck a bottle of scotch and he’ll give you a nice surprise.**


	18. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Timeline: Afternoon and early evening of Sunday 17th November 2013  
> Every party has its hangovers and Tony Stark’s are no exception.  
> With Natasha unexpectedly out of town, Ainsley and the remaining Avengers are forced to deal with the consequences of the night before and a personal crisis that may affect the future of one of the team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numerous reference to, and some discussion of, suicide

Tony Stark poured himself another whiskey and put his feet up.  No doubt Pepper would say it was far too early but they hadn’t spoken since she walked out of the party last night.  His calls were routing directly to her PA, a smooth-voiced Harvard graduate, who informed him Ms Potts was unavailable right now but that any urgent business messages would be passed on.

He rattled the ice in his glass, enjoying the sound.  It was convenient dating the woman who also ran Stark Global Industries for him; allowing business and pleasure to be handled seamlessly while permitting him the time necessary for his other commitments.  He grimaced at the word.  Commitment had been the theme of their argument.  He was used to Pepper being tolerant of the 100 different directions his attention went in but clearly after ten years she was looking to have something more solid that Tony Stark’s sense of what was convenient.  Perhaps witnessing the unalloyed devotion between Thor and Ainsley had got her questioning the lukewarm nature of her own relationship.

Like the others, except possibly Natasha, he hadn’t taken the affair between Goldilocks and Sherlock that seriously to begin with; it had seemed like an extreme rebound from the breakup with Jane that he would tire of when the novelty wore off, especially once Pidgeon and his own special brand of crazy was added to the mix.  The Big Blond Kahuna didn’t do things by halves though, he had to admit.  He’d carried a torch for Jane for almost two years after little more than a three-day weekend and a sleepover under the stars.  The relationship with Ainsley had been going on for six months now, and there was no question that Thor’s heart belonged entirely to the man he’d met in London.

Tony got up and walked over the drinks cabinet and poured the magic third. He was glad to have the doctor back and on his feet again.  He’d missed his presence over the last few weeks.  The man was a valuable ally in his difficult relationship with SHIELD; persuading and convincing where Tony tended to argue and bluster, and providing at least some insight into the possible ways the organisation was trying to manipulate him and the Avengers team towards its own opaque ends. Fury seemed to trust him, in as much as he trusted anybody, and that gave useful leverage, especially with the Academy project which, if it worked, would make the Avengers effectively autonomous.

Pepper wasn’t the only one pissed at him today.  The party was a mistake, not something he was ever likely to concede out loud.  None of the others were in the mood for letting their hair down just now, not even Goldilocks; who would usually demand a kegger if he found a toy in his cereal.  They’d stayed long enough so as not to appear rude to those guests they knew before disappearing to their own corners.  Steve had only stuck around because of his friend Sam.  He’d not seen any of them so far although he could hear Pidgeon making his point by loudly cleaning up the mess in the living area, thumps and clatters punctuated by bursts of swearing.

He sighed, it was far too early to be on his third drink of the day.  Far too early to be on the first even, he had to knock this on the head before it became a problem, but he wasn’t ready to abandon the safe haven of his private study yet and there were some ideas he wanted to run through Jarvis’s electronic brain before bouncing them off Bruce.  At least the UI was talking to him, that was something.

###

Hawkeye dried his hands on the dishcloth and threw it onto the corner of the worktop.  There was still a bit of a mess but he’d done enough and hopefully Tony, hiding in his study up on the mezzanine, had got the message.  He started fixing a fresh jug of coffee, wondering if he should head over to the park for a bit.  There were a bunch of free-runners he hung around with sometimes, showing them that an old-timer in his 30s still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and he was in the mood for a good workout. 

_Or maybe you just want to pretend you’re taking Abel out on his first run_

He ran his hand over his face.  That wasn’t something he wanted to think about today; he needed to get his body moving, build up a good sweat and let his muscles do the thinking.  He ought to find Steve at some point though, apologise for being such an asshole to his friend earlier and try to have a proper talk about last night.  The elevator doors opened and Thor came in, still in his gym gear.  Big Blond had been up early, working the hell out of the weights, leaving Doc to have a long lie in.  The little guy hadn’t had a good night, even with the two of them holding him, but he’d finally drowsed off around 4am and was peacefully asleep when he last saw him.

“Morning Blondie” he grimaced apologetically “Someone got into your Wheat Crunchies I’m afraid, think they took the Captain Wheatie stickers”

Thor regarded the open box and growled quietly in annoyance.  Clint supressed a grin.  Despite, or perhaps because of, the Asgardian’s generous nature he could be oddly possessive about the smallest things and being first to open the cereal was one of them.  He’d better warn Doc that the Big Blond was going to be in a bad mood all day.

“Coffee’s fresh, though, and I’m going out for a run after.  Wanna join me?”

“No, thank you.” He was still glaring at the box, it never seemed to taste as good when someone else opened it “I will have coffee then see if Ainsley would like some breakfast.”

“It’s good to have Doc back around the place” He handed Thor his coffee “Don’t expect him to be his old self right away though, I’ve seen guys take the kinda injuries he did and it can be a while before they’re back to normal again.”

Thor nodded sadly.  Little Bug had seemed very distracted and nervous since he was attacked. 

“It will be my turn to be patient with him.  He is always so patient with me when I am being stupid and troublesome.”

Clint squeezed his arm, the Big Blond had been in this mood a lot recently and he hated seeing it. 

“You ain’t stupid, Big Blond.  Hell, I wouldn’t even know the first thing to ask if I got dumped on Asgard; can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you living with us chimps.”

Thor stared down at his coffee

“Tony makes me feel that way. He talks to me like I am a backward child and it is hurtful and demeaning.  I am trying hard to understand how your realm works but sometimes I still need things explained to me.”

Clint took the mug off Thor and gave the big warrior a hug

“Tony’s an asshole and he treats everyone like that.  You and Steve get it worse ‘cause you’re not from around here, or now, and he gets some kinda kick out of picking on the big guys.”

He looked into the Asgardian’s eyes and kissed him

“There’s only four people alive I call friends, Big Blond, and you’re one of them.  If it wasn’t for you and Doc I don’t know how I’d have made it this far.  Next time Tony gives you any shit just call him ‘Bumblebee’ and enjoy the noises he makes.”

He laughed at Thor’s puzzled expression

“We’ll have a ‘Transformers’ movie night in the apartment tonight, then you’ll understand.”

Thor smiled and kissed him back

“Thank you for being my friend, Hawkeye.  You and Ainsley always make me feel better. I hope some day I am permitted to take you to Asgard, so I can show you the wonders of my home as you have shown me the wonders of yours”

Clint grinned and ran his hands down the big warrior’s back, giving his butt a squeeze

“You’ve shown me a couple of Asgardian wonders already, Big Blond!”

Thor growled, this time with amused pleasure

“You must behave, Clint, or I will forget the rule about pants in the penthouse.”

The archer laughed

“Wouldn’t want to make a mess just after I’ve cleaned up, and I gotta have my run.  Tell you what, I’ll drop by a store and get you a fresh box of Crunchies on the way back.”

He headed downstairs to change into his parkour gear, not that it was any different from his regular gear; basic black but with a sleeveless hoodie and sneakers instead of a regular one and combat boots.  Keeping it all the same meant there was no hassle deciding what to wear.  It would be cold outside but he liked to feel the air on his arms while he ran; seemed to help with balance. 

There were a couple of messages on his phone

**Out of town for a couple of days.  Tell Steve I’ll check in at the usual times. Take care. T**

Damn! Fury must have her off on something, he’d been hoping to talk to her later but that would have to wait.  The other was from Steve

**I’ll be back at 5. We can talk then. Sam says sorry for bugging you this AM. SR**

He texted Steve back quickly

**Cool.  Tell Sam I’m sorry for being an A-Hole. Speak later. C**

He shoved the phone in his thigh pocket and sat down on the bed for a moment.

He’d meant this apartment to be temporary while the one he’d smashed up was repaired but had decided he liked it better.  It was on a corner so half of it were windows and it made a great vantage point.  Sometimes at night it felt like being on the bridge of the Helicarrier.

He hadn’t been on the Helicarrier since… No, he didn’t want to think about that today either

_Not leaving yourself much to think about are you, Hawk?_

It was smaller than the other apartment but then he didn’t need much space, years spent on the move had taught him to live light.  Apart from clothes there were his fletching tools, a couple of bows and quivers, and his laptop.  The only really personal items were the big purple bong he called Miranda, a couple of photographs; one of Tasha taken when they were in New Zealand, another of him and Phil at his Academy graduation, and that stupid Hawkeye plushie Thor had bought him.  

He picked it off the pillow with a rueful grin.  The big goofball!  He squeezed the voicebox inside

“Hey I’m Hawkeye! I just can’t seem to miss!”

He put it back with a shake of his head, sounded nothing like him.  He looked around, not much to show for 35 years old really. 

Who was he kidding?  He did wish it was him and Abel going out on a run together, letting the kid see how much life and energy his old man had in him, trying to show off too much and both having a good laugh as he fell flat on his ass.  Maybe go loose off a few shots together in the firing range then crack open a couple of beers after dinner while his mom shook her head in mock disapproval.

He could feel his face getting hot and flushed, eyes stinging. Damn! He’d wanted to try and get through one day without this happening.  He let his head rest on his hands until the worst of the it passed and then pulled open the nightstand drawer.  The automatic was still there, where it always was. 

He picked it up and felt its comforting weight in his hand.  It did seem like the best option, just a couple of seconds to stick the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.  The others would grieve for a while, Doc and Tash would probably light candles for him in that little Catholic church they slipped off to every so often, but for everyone else he would just be another closed agent file in the SHIELD archives and maybe Abel could bury the hate along with him and get on with having a proper life. 

_Why not now? Before I fuck up any more lives?_

The edge of the barrel was sharp and cold against his hard palate and the taste was oily, metallic, causing him to gag a bit as he got the angle right and screwed his eyes hard shut. Just one good squeeze and that would be it

_Sorry, Doc!_

“Are you in need of assistance, Mr Barton?”

Jarvis’s unnervingly human voice cut across his consciousness, causing him to drop the gun in his lap.  He stared at it, realising what he had been about to do, and started shaking uncontrollably; bile rising in his throat.

The UI was concerned.  Miss Romanoff had taken Mr Barton off suicide watch just under a year and a half ago but Mr Barton’s intensely agitated vital signs had set off warning signals still present its memory banks

“I can ask someone to come and speak with you if you like?”

Clint staggered into the bathroom and over to the washbasin, grasping it with trembling hands he threw up; pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.

“No thanks, Jarvis. Just had a bit of a panic attack.  I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes.”  He needed to get out and get his body moving, ‘cause his head was no place he wanted to be right now.

“As you say, Mr Barton.”

The UI was unconvinced. A review of its memory algorithms indicated that Dr Kerr was the most appropriate person available to alert about Mr Barton’s dangerously fragile mental state.  It dedicated a corner of its processing memory to calculating the options for informing the psychologist without violating privacy protocols.

###

It was cold, but the sun was shining and the air crisp and fresh.  It had been a good run, none of the usual faces were around so he’d gone off on his own, finding a route that was challenging but unlikely to leave him with a fractured skull or testicular torsion.  He’d skinned his elbows and bloodied his knuckles but that was nothing new, gloves and elbow pads were for noobs.  The endorphin rush of exercise and the chill of the air had calmed him down a bit, in a while he’d grab something to eat and head home.  Better remember to get some fresh cereal for Big Blond on the way back, maybe see if he could find something to cheer Doc up too.

First there was a call he had to make

“Hi, Manhattan Crisis Line; my name’s Tara, how can I help you today?”

“Hey Tara, I’m Clint…” he took a deep breath and plunged straight in “I tried to kill myself earlier today and I’m really scared I’m gonna try again soon…”

###

Bruce had been at work since Nat left.  She hadn’t said where she was going, just that it was important and she’d call him later.  He’d not seen Tony all day but the billionaire had emailed him a set of files, data analysis that Jarvis had run, some new directions to try and a couple of interesting formulae.  Tony was having a ‘Study’ day which meant that he was almost certainly drunk, had probably fallen out with Pepper, and wouldn’t re-appear until around tomorrow lunchtime.  That was fine with him, a little solitude was what he craved just now; Dr Kerr’s voice in the doorway was not what he wanted to hear

“I’m sorry Bruce, I know you’re busy but can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

He looked up and sighed

“What is it Ainsley?  I’ve just had a whole load of material from Tony that I need to assess and integrate.”

Ainsley rubbed his hands together nervously.  He’d not had a cigarette since before the attack but today he really wanted one.

“It’s about Clint…” Bruce glared at the psychologist

“You’re not going to try and get me to weigh in about Abel are you?  I thought Steve had made it clear you were to back off on that?”

The scientist had carefully avoided getting tangled up in that can of worms and had no intention of becoming part of any attempt by Ainsley and Tony to push their own agenda.

The doctor shook his head and sat down

“No, it’s nothing like that.  It’s something Jarvis said to me a little while ago” He looked up and Bruce could see the concern in his eyes “Bruce, I think Clint’s seriously considering committing suicide.”

There was a very long pause and a cold reserve in Bruce’s voice when he finally spoke.  He knew exactly why the doctor had come to him It had been a moment of personal weakness when he’d told the others about his attempt to take his life, foiled only by the Other Guy and he didn’t like the idea of Ainsley knowing about it, however he’d found it out.

“Did Tony tell you I tried, or did you ‘work it out for yourself’?”

“Bruce…” Ainsley tone was placatory, almost pleading.  Bruce’s misgivings about him had become increasingly evident over the months past and he had tried to give him the space he clearly wanted but right now he desperately needed his help “It’s what I do, what I’m trained to do.  I can’t switch it off any more than you can switch off…”

“The ‘Other Guy’?” The suspicion was still there.  Ainsley smiled shyly, trying to appease the nervous older scientist.

“I was going to say ‘seeing everything as a formula to be solved’ but I suppose that’s just as true.”

Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, aware that he was over-reacting again.  He had to dial down his paranoia, Ainsley wasn’t trying to get inside his head or manipulate him, he was frightened and reaching out about a mutual friend who might well be in very grave danger.

“Did I ever tell you why I became a psychologist?” the doctor asked, hoping that some attempt at explanation might dilute the other man’s truculence.  Bruce shook his head.

“No, you didn’t.” Ainsley was clearly very agitated.  Perhaps if he let him speak a little it would calm them both down.

“Ever since I was I child I’ve been good at seeing patterns, putting things together, it’s why I like puzzles so much.” He paused, trying to find the right words to explain something that came to him as naturally as the colour of his eyes “I can look at all the scattered pieces and just understand the whole picture they make.  Once I have that it’s only a matter of putting the right pieces in the right place.  I could have gone into law, or forensics or any number of disciplines, but it was always the human soul that fascinated me.”

He went quiet for a little, remembering the happy ordered days at Ampleforth.

“It’s an old-fashioned term, I know, but I was schooled by monks you see, Benedictines, all the best English Catholic families send their sons to them, far more gentlemanly than the Jesuits.  If I’d felt any sort of vocation I probably would have taken the cloth and become some learned father confessor.  As I didn’t, I entered the modern secular priesthood of psychology instead, becoming the disciple of the great Karl-Heinrich Feldermann and his gospel of Gestalt.  Izzie had the same ability but she turned her gift in the direction of medicine.  She was brilliant at diagnosis, could tell what was wrong with you almost just by looking.  It’s what made her so amazing at treating children…”

His voice tailed off, speaking of her took some of the sharp edges of grief away but it could never stop hurting.

“…you probably would have liked her a lot better than you like me.”

Bruce sat down beside him

“It’s not that I dislike you Ainsley, most of the time you’re very likeable and you have an incredible gift; it makes you one of the best at what you do and you do a lot of good with it.  I’ll just never be entirely comfortable around someone who can see inside minds the way you can, especially when you’re so fond of being right all the time.”

Ainsley looked faintly embarrassed.  Bruce reached out and took the doctor’s hand.  He used physical contact sparingly, even less than Natasha, so even the smallest gesture was rich in meaning.

“You’re a good man and I don’t believe there’s any malice in you but I’ve spent years hiding from what’s inside me, and hiding from people like you trying to find out about what’s inside me.  Those that do have a habit of getting hurt, the Other Guy is even more paranoid than me and he doesn’t care about good intentions when he’s riled.”

He let go of Ainsley’s hand and sighed heavily

“So please don’t take it the wrong way when I say I never want to get that close to you and I’d be obliged if you didn’t try to get too close to me.”

He sat back in his seat

“I will come and talk to Clint with you, though.  If he’s bad enough to be giving Jarvis the jitters and hasn’t said anything to you or Thor, then I think we should be very concerned.”

###

Steve had been in his room, reading, since he got back from seeing Sam off at the airport.  He’d tried to work on one of his models but his hands were a bit shaky, nerves from blurting that stuff out to Barton at the party last night.  It had been out of order and embarrassing for them both, no wonder he’d taken off so quick given the chance. 

He should never have put Barton in an awkward spot like that, invading the guy’s private space, and definitely shouldn’t have spoken about witnessing him and Thor having sex, or how he’d reacted.  At least Barton hadn’t been an ass about it and had made some attempt to show an understanding of where he was coming from before making a run for it.

He put his book down when he heard the knock on the door.

“Yeah?”

“Steve, it’s me” Clint’s voice “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, come in.” replied the soldier, getting up to make some coffee for them.  He busied himself with the machine, unable to look at Clint for the moment.  He heard something being put down on the table.

“Look, is it ok if we just forget about what I said last night?  It wasn’t appropriate for me to bring any of that up and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Steve…” There was a strain in Barton’s voice that made him turn.  He saw what the man had put down beside the book.  An automatic revolver and a full magazine “Can you hold on to these for me?”

Steve looked down at the gun and up at Barton, his face was pale and he was shivering like he’d just been in an ice-bath.

“Barton, what the hell’s going on?”

Clint swallowed hard, it felt like his throat was trying to close and stop the words coming out

“Steve…  Earlier today…. I tried to… I… I tried… I…” his breathing turned into loud, wheezing, gasps as he struggled for air.

_He’s having a panic attack_

Steve grabbed a paper bag from the drawer and made Barton sit down, holding it over his nose and mouth until he slowly began to breath normally and regain some natural colour.  Forgetting about the coffee he poured them both a whiskey.

“Okay Barton, take it slow and tell me what’s up.”

Clint swallowed down the alcohol, feeling the heat of it in his chest

“Steve, I tried to kill myself.”

Steve took a long deep breath and let it out slowly.  Somewhere, deep down, he’d known how much trouble Barton was in but he’d never expected it to get this bad.  Hearing his team-mate admit it was a hard punch in the guts.

“Why?”

It was a stupid question and they both knew it.  Clint laughed grimly

“I’ve thought about it on and off for years, since what happened in Bafendi and everything that came after.”

He put the glass down and ran his hands through his hair

“Last few weeks it’s been almost every day; my life’s never been great but right now it’s completely fucked up and I can’t see any way of making it better.  Today I was sitting on the bed with the gun in my mouth, ready to redecorate the wall behind with my brains.  If Jarvis hadn’t butted in that’s what I would’ve done.  Guess it remembered the suicide watch protocols that Tash set up.”

Doc and Bruce had been ‘chilling out’ in the lounge when he’d got back.  That on its own was enough to let him know the UI had found a way to warn one or both.  Thor hovering in the background with bewildered anxiety all over his face was just the final confirmation.  The Big Blond should never try playing poker.

He’d forestalled them by saying he had to speak to Steve first.  The guy was effectively his Commanding Officer, and there was a way these things had to be done.

“I spoke to one of these suicide hotlines after my run.  Nice girl, and she said all the things I needed to hear; but I know that’s not going to be enough and I know what you’ve got to do.”

Steve put his arm around Barton’s shoulders and steadied his own breathing, he was going to need a turn with the paper bag if he wasn’t careful.  He remembered what a doctor had said to him during the war, when a soldier had walked out of the mess hall and shot himself 5 minutes after buying a round of drinks ‘Suicide always comes as a surprise, because the ones who’re going to never speak about it.’

“Clint, I’m going to have to suspend you immediately pending a full psychiatric review and evaluation.  I’ll also have to notify Director Fury of the situation.  Whether you can return to duty depends on the results of the evaluation.  Your status with SHIELD is ultimately Fury’s decision, but I’ll be honest and tell you now that if the evaluation is negative I can’t allow you back on the team.”

Clint nodded his acknowledgement, feeling a cold numbness spreading through his limbs.  Every word out of Steve’s mouth sounded like it was causing the team captain physical pain; they both knew there was no other possible option but that didn’t make it hurt any less for either of them.  Eventually he managed to speak

“Cap,” his voice was faint and broken “can I be the one to tell the others, and Tash when she gets back? 

“Sure” Steve replied “I think that’s the best idea.  You want to do it now or have another drink first?”

Clint shook his head. 

“Let’s get it done and out the way, then I’ll get that drink.”

Tony had joined them in the lounge just after Clint went down to speak to Steve, looking suspiciously sober for someone who’d supposedly been drinking all day.  Either Jarvis had alerted him as well or some sixth sense had told him that something was up. 

Ainsley had spent a long time explaining the difficult psychology of the situation to Thor, convincing him that he shouldn’t be angry either with Clint for not saying anything or blame himself for not noticing.    Now the Asgardian sat silently beside his lover on a couch, holding his hand and sick with worry for Hawkeye. 

Ainsley was lost in thought; trying not to lay any blame on his own shoulders.  This should have been obvious to him but he’d spent the last two months in hospital, removed from the situation and from Clint’s mental deterioration, occupied with his own slow recovery.

Bruce was in the kitchen area making them all tea, wishing that Natasha was there as well, when Steve and Clint came up from Steve’s apartment.  Both men looked like emotional wrecks and Clint was having problems making eye contact with any of them. He sat down on the couch across from Thor and Ainsley, staring at the floor and silently accepting the tea that Bruce handed him.  He wanted to get this out and done as quick as possible.

“I tried to kill myself this afternoon.”

Tony lowered his head to his hand with a low groan, Ainsley made a small choking noise but the others were silent.

“I’ve told Steve about the full circumstances and I’m suspended from the team until a psychiatric review and evaluation has been completed.  That’s required protocol in this scenario, not his call, so don’t go jumping down his throat.  He’s doing the right thing for all of us.  If the evaluation’s negative it’ll probably mean a medical discharge.”

Thor looked like he was about to leap to his feet in outrage but Ainsley put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.  The silence was broken by Tony

“If you weren’t happy about the party you just had to say!”

They all looked at him in astonishment for a moment and then Ainsley began to laugh. Short, high-pitch staccato giggles at first then helpless howls interspersed with breathless ‘ouches’ as he clung on to Thor’s arm, Clint followed suit, sliding off the couch with great bellowing guffaws and within seconds all six men were sprawled across the furniture laughing hysterically.

Eventually Clint hauled himself back up, gasping for breath and wiping the tears from his face

“Stark, you’re a fucking smartass arrogant bastard but sometimes I love you.”

The laughter gradually subsided, dispelling the immediate tension but leaving them with a gnawing apprehension.  Clint’s whole life was bound up with the Avengers, no-one really knew what his options would be if he were forced to leave

“If it’s going to be awkward having me around on suspension maybe there’s a spare apartment somewhere in town I can borrow?” Unlike Tasha he’d never bothered with an external bolthole.  The ventilation ducts of the tower gave him plenty of hiding places when he wanted to get away.

“Bullshit!” was Stark’s response “This is still my penthouse and I’m the only one who gets to decide who stays or who goes.  And unless I’m mistaken it’s also my call who I retain as a personal Security Consultant.”

He glanced across at Steve “Any issues with that, Ice-Cap?”

The soldier shrugged, affecting nonchalance but grateful to Stark for the signal he was sending loud and clear.  Whatever happened with regards to SHIELD and the Avengers no-one in this room was prepared to cut Barton loose.

“Your home and your business, Stark.  Can’t tell you how to run either.”

The billionaire walked over to Clint and crouched down in front of him, putting a hand on his arm.

“Get your wings fixed, Pidgeon, and don’t go flying away from us just yet.” He leaned in and whispered in his ear “I’ve been there, come speak to me later.”

Clint nodded his appreciation.  Stark got up and pulled his phone out.

“I’m going to order in some Chinese food.  There should be plenty of beer left and I think something about a movie night was mentioned earlier.  We all need a little bit of a distraction right now.”

He looked over to Ainsley

“I believe in the Old Country it’s known as a ‘Lad’s Night In’?”

Ainsley laughed, Tony may have made a wrong call with the party but he was spot on about what was required tonight.

“I believe you’re correct, Tony, and I second your opinion. I’ll have the duck with black bean sauce and make sure there’s no shellfish in anything.”

The serious discussion of what would have to be done could wait till tomorrow, they all agreed.  Tonight, they would eat, drink, watch bad movies and talk into the small hours about the stupidest and most banal things they could imagine.

While Tony and Clint headed off to the pantry to fetch more beers, Ainsley saw Steve beckoning to him and went over.  The soldier took him briefly to one side, speaking quickly and quietly

“I don’t care about Conflict of Interest; I want your full appraisal and opinion of Barton’s evaluation before I come to any decision.  You know him better than any of the SHIELD head doctors and I trust your objectivity more than I do theirs”

The doctor nodded, sharing Steve’s concern about Hawkeye getting an impartial review.  Steve continued speaking, lowering his voice further

“When Tasha gets back, with Barton’s consent, I want you and her to look at alternative options for dealing with Abel.  I meant what I said before, but I was wrong not to place greater weight on your advice.  I need the pair of you to try and fix this mess before it gets any worse.”

 


	19. Little Hawk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18th November 2013  
> In the wake of his suicide attempt, Hawkeye’s mental state deteriorates rapidly and the team realise their comrade is in much worse shape than they imagine.  
> Natasha attempts to comfort her oldest friend while Ainsley pushes himself near to collapse ensuring the archer gets the treatment he needs.  
> Ainsley shares a long-standing suspicion with Tony and Natasha reveals what she’s learned from Trickshot.  
> With Clint’s long-term future in grave doubt will the Avengers be able to pursue Natasha’s lead in time? And what is the secret of Barney Barton’s discovery?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malen’kiy yastreb (ru) – Little hawk  
> Moy grustnyy yastreb (ru) – My sad little hawk  
> Natasha’s endearments are courtesy of Google Translate so I make no claim to their linguistic accuracy  
> References to suicide and mental breakdown

Natasha kissed his cheek and rested his head on her shoulder, gently stroking his hair.

“Please don’t do this to me, _malen’kiy yastreb_ ; not now. Not ever.”

Clint wished she was screaming at him, slapping his face in a rage or dragging him down to the sparring mats to thrash him with every fighting technique in her arsenal.  Anything would have been better than this quiet, gentle sadness.  He knew she was thinking about what would have happened if Jarvis hadn’t stopped him; in her mind, she stood in the cemetery with Bruce’s arm around her as they lowered him into the ground.

“I’m sorry, Natasha” he whispered, unable to stop the tears running down his face “I’m so very sorry…”

He’d wanted to tell Tasha himself but he’d taken another panic attack when Jarvis notified them her car had pulled into the parking garage.  Ainsley and Bruce volunteered to break the news while Steve and Thor calmed him down and kept him company in the quiet lounge; sitting there, he could feel himself withdrawing like he was looking at everything through a thick fog.  Tony was keeping a low profile for a change, pottering about between the kitchen and his study, subdued by what had happened and by Pepper still refusing to return his calls.

Tasha’d come running in; throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close, her whole body shaking.  He hadn’t noticed Steve or Thor leaving, the two big guys could be very quiet when they wanted.  Since then she’d been sitting here holding him, not saying a word, trying to re-assure herself he was really there and not some phantom.

“Tasha, what do I do now?”

his voice was still a whisper, he couldn’t keep it under control any other way

“If I don’t make the evaluations, SHIELD…”

She put her finger to his lips

“This isn’t about SHIELD any more, or the Avengers.  It’s about you getting well again and us helping you”

“What if I can’t?  Tash, it’s like a whole chunk of my life’s been ripped away and I don’t know what’s me any more…”

Natasha put her arms around him and held him tight, unsure which of them was shaking the most.  She’d never seen him this bad before; closing down in front of her eyes as his mind crumbled under the incessant psychic bombardment.

“Shhhh!  Don’t think like that, _moy grustnyy yastreb_ , we’ll put you back together again.”

She began to croon an old, old, melody; rocking her weeping friend gently in her arms, wishing she could believe that was possible.

###

“So, if you had to give a diagnosis right now; what would it be?”

Tony’s question called Ainsley back from his thoughts.  He’d been helping Natasha put Clint to bed, Thor was sitting with him while she went to shower and change.  The archer had been progressively slipping into a numb, passive, state all day; barely aware of his surroundings, allowing himself to be prompted into action but doing little of his own volition. As the full realisation of what he’d tried to do, and the consequences he was facing, sank in it was like an off-switch had been pressed somewhere inside.  Natasha had sat with him in the quiet lounge most of the afternoon, holding him in her arms and singing to him. 

Fury was ‘unavailable’ but Victoria Hand was demanding Clint’s immediate transfer to the Psych facility at the Hub. Steve stalled her while Ainsley spoke with Maria Hill and Ann Weaver, getting their clearance for Clint to be admitted to the clinic at the Science & Tech Academy for examination and review. Ann asked him to shortlist some names from the Sci Ops Psych Team whom he thought competent to deal with the case.  He still wouldn’t have any direct involvement but at least it gave him some say in who would be rummaging about the archer’s head.

Ainsley had expressed his professional opinion of the Psych Team at the Hub earlier in the day.  They’d never expected to hear the doctor use the words “…braindead, flaccid, penguin-fuckers…”in any context.  

Ainsley took the coffee that Stark offered, the billionaire kept his own private stash in his study; an excellent and aromatic Vietnamese roast.  He hesitated for a moment before deciding to take the plunge, fighting down the exhaustion and nausea that kept welling up.  He should be in bed, resting, but there was no-one else with the qualifications to arrange Clint’s care; certainly, no-one who knew him well enough to understand the extent of the damage to his mind.

“He’s going into total shutdown, Tony.  If we’re lucky we can hold him back from becoming completely catatonic but that’s the best we can hope for just now.  I’ve told Steve that we shouldn’t even consider evaluations yet.  This isn’t just an isolated breakdown; it’s the cumulative effect of years of psychological trauma.”

He looked directly up at Tony, time to go to the heart of the matter

“There’s one common feature in all of Clint’s crises, a name that comes up far too much around here”

Tony nodded, contemplating the drinks cabinet.  He’d been ‘dry’ all day so far, a considerable achievement for him, but there was a bottle of Glenfarclas calling out to him.  He turned away and poured himself another coffee.

“Phil has become the skeleton at our feast…” he admitted “…and you’re right, Pigeon’s obsession with the man is driving him further and further over the edge.

He sat down across from the doctor with a grunt

“But unless we call Ghostbusters, or get your Vatican friends to send us an old priest and a young priest, I don’t see how we can lay that restless spirit down.”

Ainsley laughed, glad of even a moment of humour on this dreadful day

“Until Clint starts dressing like the Men in Black and talking like a tax auditor I doubt the exorcists would be interested…”

Tony smiled as he drank his coffee; that was pretty much spot on how Coulson sounded….

He glanced across at the doctor; Ainsley was staring down at his cup with a perplexed look on his face

“How…?” he began

Ainsley put his coffee down

“I had some very peculiar dreams while I was under sedation; a couple about my grandmother and Thor that I’m still trying to unwind, but one in particular stands out.  I couldn’t see anything, but a man and a woman were standing by my bed talking, about Clint and Abel I think.  They both had very distinctive voices and I’m sure the man was Phil Coulson...”

Tony sat back, steepling his fingers and staring at the floor; he noticed the design on the carpet looked like DNA spirals if he turned his head a certain way

“Are you certain it was just a dream?” he asked at last.

“I thought you might share my suspicions” Ainsley admitted “Thor saw Loki stab Coulson but we only have Director Fury’s word that the wound was fatal; I understand it provided some necessary motivation at the time.”

“Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

The young psychologist shook his head

“There’s enough paranoia simmering around the place already without adding that pinch of spice; besides it’s no more than a vague hunch and digging around for confirmation might be unwise just now.”

Tony couldn’t refrain from smiling.  He was working on a new set of spy-ware programs and the SHIELD databases would be perfect for beta-testing. 

“I think you’re right, Sherlock.” he acknowledged “This needs to be kept between us for now; at least until we’ve got something other than hunches.  The others aren’t quite so ‘pragmatic’ when it comes to deception.”

Jarvis interrupted them

“Excuse me, Sir; Dr Banner and Miss Romanoff are wondering if you and Dr Kerr would care to join them in the main lounge?”

Tony threw Ainsley a quizzical glance, the doctor nodded.  Bruce and Natasha were sitting talking in the lounge as they came down the stairs from the gallery.  Tony couldn’t help notice their hands were almost, but not quite, touching

_Well, wonder how long that’s been going on?_

Bruce looked up at them

“What’s the word from the Academy?”

Ainsley sat down beside them while Tony fixed them all a drink; tea for Ainsley, the doctor was still on strong painkillers.

“Dr Zabriski’s arranging for him to be picked up at 9am tomorrow so we should probably have a bag packed and ready for him.  She’ll want him full-time to begin with so he can stabilise, then they can determine whether he’ll need to be there on a residential or day basis.”

He sat back and sighed, it felt like they were committing him to an asylum. 

“I’ve asked Dr Palmer to give him a mild sedative in the meantime.  Sleep’s the best thing for him now.”

Natasha put her hand on his and smiled

“Thank you for everything you’ve done; I feel a lot easier knowing that he’s going to be at the Academy rather than the Hub.”

Ainsley nodded.  Helen Zabriski was an old friend from the doctor’s days in Vienna and her methods were emphatically civilised. He’d noticed several Feldermann’s old students seemed to be connected with SHIELD in one capacity or another.  He wondered sometimes if his own mentor had been entirely uninvolved.

 “I’ve put in a submission that unless Clint’s deemed to be an actual threat to himself or others they should opt for day treatment if possible.  He’ll feel more secure if he’s allowed home on days when he’s not undergoing review; I think that at least one of us should be with him on the days that he is there.  Steve’s backing up that recommendation and Helen doesn’t see an issue.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled gently back at her

“One way or another, we’ll get him fixed.”

“So, apart from this” asked Tony, handing Natasha her drink “How’s your weekend been?”

She laughed nervously, taking the glass off him, what had seemed so important when she was driving back home this morning had dissolved like mist once she heard they’d almost lost Hawkeye.

“I have a solid lead on where we can find Barney…”

…Natasha and Clint had arranged for Buck Chisholm to be moved to a better nursing home; higher quality facilities, superior medical care and closer to New York so it was easier for them to visit.  Armed with a bottle of vintage single malt that Tony probably wouldn’t miss, she’d been on the road within thirty minutes of his text.  Trickshot was a lot worse than the last time she’d seen him, the cancer taking its toll, but he’d been true to his word.  The golden age of the travelling carnival might be in the past but the old man still had a network of old circus contacts that would make a SHIELD Agent jealous. 

One of them, an illusionist working the casino circuit in Las Vegas, caught sight of Barney Barton, although he was now calling himself Leon Kruger; riding with a group of bikers operating in Arizona and southern Nevada.  The usual tags came up. Drugs, prostitution, guns; but also implication in a recent robbery at an archaeological site, an old Hualapai location.  That caught her attention.  There was a flourishing black market in Native American antiquities but it was an odd departure for this gang, unless you knew of Barney’s previous association with artefact smuggling.  Few details of the dig or the robbery were available but whatever Barney was after, it probably wasn’t pottery or medicine bundles.

It was the first solid information they’d had since Clint’s brother had appeared on their radar, and it gave Natasha a strategy for the next phase of the game….   

…Tony put down his phone.  He’d ordered Thai, no-one was in the mood to cook this evening

“Do we have any idea what they stole?” He asked.  Natasha shook her head

“There’s a bit of chatter about ‘a significant discovery’ and ‘re-evaluating early Native American history in the area’ but then it goes quiet.  I can try and check in SHIELD reports but if it’s a potential 084 case then I’m unlikely to get access; those get restricted to the Field Agent in Charge.”

“Artefact of unknown origin” Tony explained in response to Ainsley’s questioning look “Like the Tesseract or Thor’s Hammer; hopefully not in that league though! Sherlock, are you all right…?”

Ainsley had suddenly gone very pale and seemed a bit queasy.  The doctor took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes.

“Just tired, very tired. I think I might skip dinner and keep Clint company for a while; give Thor a break.”

Tony felt a surge of guilt.  Ainsley was scarcely 48 hours out of hospital and should be sitting with his feet up being fussed over by Goldilocks and demanding incessant cups of tea; instead he’d spent the entire day battling through SHIELD bureaucracy to ensure Pigeon got the sort of treatment he needed.  The little guy looked near to collapse.  He turned to Natasha and Bruce

“Can you two pack a bag for Pigeon? I’m taking Sherlock down to 221b before he passes out on us.”

Thor looked up from his book as Ainsley came in.  He never had much gift or inclination for the written word, but this story of the Boy Wizard and his adventures appealed to him greatly.  Ainsley saw the unasked question on his face

“Gryffindor, Snuggie-Bear, without a doubt.”

Thor grinned, that had not been his question but it was nice to hear Ainsley say it.  His grin faded when he saw how pale and tired his lover looked.  He got up and went over to him

“You must lie down and rest, Little Bug.  It is not right you had to do so much.”

He could not keep the irritation out of his voice.  Yes, they needed to help Clint; but Ainsley was still weak from the hospital and he should not have so many burdens placed on him. He put his arms around his lover and bent his head to kiss him.

“You will become sick if you do not take care” he said softly

Ainsley rested his head against Thor’s chest, drawing comfort from his strength and warmth as the warrior held him close.  There had been a point where it felt like this day would never end, just drag on from crisis to crisis.

“It’s almost done now, we just have to get Clint settled in.”

“Please…” Thor lifted his lovers face and Ainsley could see the concern in his eyes “Please, Little Bug; let one of the others do that.  I will tell Steve or Natasha they must go with Clint tomorrow.  We can go to be with him when you feel stronger.”

Ainsley opened his mouth to protest but Thor put a finger to his lips, furrowing his brows in an exaggerated frown.

“This is my Do Not Argue face.  The Mighty Thor must not be challenged when he wears this face.”

His expression softened into a gentle smile

“Please rest for tomorrow at least.  Is this such a great thing I ask?”

The young doctor rested his head back against his lover’s chest with a sigh

“You’re right, of course, Snuggie Bear.  I need take some time out and get my strength back.  I’m just worried that Clint’s going to have a bad reaction when they come to take him to the clinic.”

“Will he be home for Christ Mass?” Thor asked in a quiet voice.  He had heard much about this mid-winter festival, where many Midgardians celebrated the birth of a God by decorating their homes with green branches, exchanging gifts and feasting.  He was looking forward to experiencing it for the first time and the thought that Clint might possibly be absent saddened him greatly.

Ainsley took his hand and kissed it.

“I don’t know; I hope so.  If not, we’ll just have Christmas wherever Clint is.” 

He stepped back, wiping his eyes.  Now all the calls were made, the arrangements in place, and the conversations done for the day, he couldn’t fight the gnawing tiredness any more.

“There’s Thai food on order upstairs, go get something to eat while I have a bit of a lie down.”

Thor took his lovers face in his hand and gently brushed his lips against his forehead.

“Rest well, Little Bug.  I will be back soon.”

Hawkeye stirred slightly as Ainsley lay down beside him and pulled the covers up, his eyelids flickering open.  The normally clear blue-grey eyes appeared drowsy and unfocussed, the pupils dilated from the sedatives in his system.  His hearing aids were out and the doctor wasn’t sure if he would be aware enough to process signing but he tried something simple anyway

**U Ok**

Clint mumbled something that sounded like ‘hug me?’ and Ainsley wrapped his arms around the other man, feeling him automatically nestle in closer for comfort and re-assurance. 

They were both fast asleep when Thor came back downstairs.  He had spoken firmly to the others, making it plain they must not expect so much of Ainsley while he was still unwell.  Natasha and Steve had agreed to go with Clint tomorrow and one or other of them would spend the first few days there.  He watched the two men for a time as they slept in each other’s arms then went back through to the living room and picked up his book.  He would let them have this night alone together.  If what Natasha and Steve said was true, it might be many nights before Clint was with them again.

After the first few lines he realised his vision was too blurred to read.  He put the book to one side and started to cry quietly for his friend.

###

Barney placed the case down on the table in front of a smartly dressed man with thick, black hair. 

“Hope that’s what you were after, Mr Bakshi.”

Sunil Bakshi flicked the clasps and opened the lid.  As he looked at its contents his mouth curved in a thin, cold, smile.

“Excellent, Mr ‘Kruger’.  This goes a long way towards cancelling your previous delinquencies.”

He removed a fat white envelope from his inside pocket and slid it over to Barney

“A small token of our appreciation for your efforts, but it would be advisable if Mr ‘Kruger’ were to meet a swift end and his position be filled by someone else.  We don’t want to leave any unfortunate tracks a second time, do we?”

Barney picked up the envelope and stuffed it in his pocket.  The threat under Bakshi’s innocuous words was plain.  He’d messed up before; if it hadn’t been for getting those little beauties out from under the noses of SHIELD he wouldn’t have got a second chance.  These guys wouldn’t give him a third.

“Understood, Mr Bakshi.  I’ll get on to it right away. Hail Hydra!”

Bakshi acknowledged the salute with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow.  Barton was a mercenary, not a true follower.  He worked for fear and money rather than the Cause.  Still, he had certain useful talents and contacts which served them well.  He waited until the man had left, finished his coffee then left through the back door of the restaurant followed by his guards.  Dr Whitehall would be extremely pleased with what had been recovered.  When The Day came it would enable them to neutralise one of the biggest single threats to their success.

 


	20. Crossing Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story timeline Thursday 21st November 2013  
> Two searches come together, and a new alliance is formed.   
> Thor has a confession to make.

“It’s only a trace, but the spectrographic signature suggests there was definitely something of Asgardian origin in that pit”

Fitz twiddled with the dials on the spectrometer to refine the reading while Sky peered over Jemma’s shoulder at the drawing in her hands

“We sure it’s them?”

The sketch artist with the dig had been able to complete a detailed technical drawing of the items before they were stolen.  Two large, heavy looking, hoops covered in geometric patterns; judging by the photographs they were made of a dull bronze-like metal.  Fragments of leather cord wrapped around them suggested they’d been used as neck ornaments at one point.

“Weeelll…” said Jemma speculatively “They don’t match any other known Native American artefacts of the period and elements of the design do compare favourably with those of other Asgardian objects we’ve seen; admittedly we haven’t seen that many…”

“Two; the Berserker Staff and Lady Sif’s sword.” Fitz interrupted “We’ve never actually seen Mjolnir.”

“Three” Jemma reminded him “You’re forgetting Lorelei’s muzzle; but it’s still not a huge sample group.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Sky, a sudden glint in her eyes “Maybe this is some of Thor’s old man-bling.  If we find it and get it back to him, well, you know…”

Jemma smiled, still studying the sketch

“You are aware of the whole ‘Thor has a boyfriend’ thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah” snorted Fitz in amusement “a sarcastic English boyfriend.  No-one wants to go up against that.”

Sky shrugged

“Five minutes of flexing isn’t going to hurt anyone…”

Jemma’s far-away look suggested her agreement with that hypothesis.  They were interrupted by Coulson’s return, followed by Agent May. 

“Not everything Asgardian happens to be Thor’s personal property.  Let’s concentrate on the job in hand and try not to get distracted. What have we got so far?”

His tone was still abrupt and impatient Sky noted.  He’d been on edge ever since last night for no obvious reason.

“Not much other than this sketch, the photographs and Fitz’s readings” Jemma acknowledged.  “They appear to be some sort of bracelets or wrist-guards…”

“Yeah, _Thor-sized_ wrist-guards” muttered Sky, ignoring Coulson’s annoyed glance

“…but they would have been too large for the average Hualapai so it looks like they used them as pendants” concluded Fitz.

“So, not much.” He activated the comm-link “Ward, what about you?”

“Half a dozen or so bike gangs operating in the area, sir.  One of them, The Devil Dogs, started dropping off the radar just after the robbery.”

“Okay, get back to the Bus and we’ll follow up on that.” He took the sketch and the photographs from Jemma “I’ll see if Professor Randolph can give us anything more.”

###

“I’m sorry, Phil, they could be anything; even just regular wrist-guards. the Asgardian who called himself Professor Elliot Randolph spread his hands apologetically “I was a stonemason, remember?  I didn’t even see that much of Asgard before I joined the Berserker Army.  If you get hold of the originals I might be able to tell you something more but until then…”

“Understood Professor Randolph, thank you for taking the time.  Enjoy the concert this evening.”

Coulson switched off the screen and sat down.  It had been a long shot, but alien artefacts running around made him nervous and Randolph was the only Asgardian he could contact directly.  It would be nice to think these were merely pieces of jewellery that had been lost a thousand or more years ago, then made their way along the trade routes over the centuries but he’d yet to run across anything alien that proved to be innocuous.

“Hey AC, ‘s’up?”

Coulson looked up to see Sky in the doorway, smiling.  He had to remember to close his office door now and again,

“Randolph couldn’t help us.  Until we can track down these ‘Devil Dogs’ we’re still in the dark.”

She sat down on the couch and picked up a paperweight.  It was one of those glass ones with a sea-anemone in it and she turned it in her hands to catch the light.

“No, I mean what’s up with you?  You’ve been twitchy all day. Bad news?”

Coulson sighed, weighing up the pros and cons of opening up.  He hadn’t told anyone yet, although Melinda kept giving him The Look.  Melinda would be pragmatic and functional; Sky would tell him the right thing to do, even if it was impossible.  Perhaps that was one of the reasons he’d come to trust her so much.

“An old friend of mine tried to kill himself at the weekend.  I just found out last night.”

“Oh God, AC!” Sky’s face was a mask of shock “I’m so sorry, is he going to be ok?”

Coulson shook his head sadly

“I don’t know.  He’s gone into near total shutdown and been admitted to a clinic for observation.”

She got up and walked over to crouch beside him, putting her hand on his arm

“You should go and see him, we can keep things going on the ground here for a couple of days.”

“I can’t, it’s Agent Barton. He thinks I’m dead” The pain in his voice made Sky’s heart ache “He’s been blaming himself for my death ever since.  It’s one of the reasons he tried to blow his brains out...”

“You went to see Dr Kerr and you don’t even know him.  I’ve heard how much Agent Barton means to you…”

“This is different.  If it was just Fury’s orders, I’d find some way round them” He looked down at her with a mischievous smile “Or get you to find some way round them for me...”

He put his hand on hers and patted it gently

“…But if I show up now, after all this time; if he finds out the organisation he’s put all his faith in has lied to him about something like this, it could destroy him completely.”

The cogs were already turning in Sky’s mind

“I could find a way to talk to Dr Kerr for you.  If he’s as good as everyone says he could break it to him…”

“No!” The pain and sadness was gone from Coulson’s voice, replaced by an emphatic authority “There are too many unknown variables in play right now, it could put both of you at unacceptably high risk.”

Sky got to her feet and placed the paperweight down on the desk.  Coulson glanced at it, then at her.  She sighed and put it back where she found it.

“So, what do we do now?” She asked

He looked at her with a dry smile

“We go round up the Devil Dogs.”

###

The bar was small, a typical roadside stop for this part of the state.  Only a couple of cars and bikes parked outside, clearly business was slow on a midweek lunchtime; the weather chilly by Arizona standards.

“Ward should be doing this, not you.” grumbled Agent May as they walked towards the door.

“Relax” said Coulson, Melinda was never happy when he ventured anywhere near the field these days “we’re just stopping off for a quiet drink and a bit of light conversation with the bartender; background observation, nothing more.”

As they got up to the bar door it opened and a red-haired woman in skin-tight jeans and a biker jacket came out. She stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

“Phil?!”

“Oh! Hi Nata….”

###

“You’ll be glad to hear it’s not broken.” Jemma’s voice was coloured with a bright edge of nervousness.  One of SHIELD’s most notorious ‘specialists’ sat upstairs drinking tea under the watchful eye of Agent May “I’ve stopped the bleeding but you might have a black eye tomorrow.”

“I’ll can live with that” grumbled Coulson, gingerly wrinkling his nose and picking up his jacket.

“So, that’s the famous Black Widow” said Sky, looking at the monitor.  The poised red-head sitting in the lounge didn’t look to be much more than 30 “I figured she’d be a lot older.”

“Don’t be fooled” Coulson adjusted his tie.  It was one of his favourites and fortunately he hadn’t dripped blood onto it “Agent Romanoff made her first kill before you started junior high.”

He grinned at her nervously

“Wish me luck…”

Natasha put her cup down as Coulson came up the stairs into the plane’s lounge.  He was glad to see she was using a coaster.

“I didn’t think any of these Mobile Airborne Command Centres were still in operation” Her manner was light, conversational; the tone of voice you would use when having coffee with an old friend not talking to a man you thought had been dead for two years “Is this the latest addition to your collection?”

Phil sat down and glanced briefly at May who nodded and left.

“Fury had it reconditioned and brought back into service when I…” He paused, might as well jump in and tackle the herd of elephants in the room.

“…I did die, for 8 or 40 seconds or however long it was.  I don’t know.  After they put me back together they sent me off to… …Tahiti… …to recover.  When I came back on active duty, Fury had me assemble this team; to handle the ‘out of the ordinary’. Things the average field team couldn’t deal with but which weren’t in the Avengers’ league.”

She arched her eyebrow slightly and picked up her tea again.  Agent Romanoff was in full Observation Mode.

“Fury ordered my recovery kept a secret.  Level 7 classification.  He thought it might cause problems if some of the Avengers found out how he’d played them.”

Natasha was silent for a moment.  When she spoke her voice was calm and steady, Coulson knew her well enough to sense the adamantine control she was exercising

“It caused problems anyway, for Clint.”

Coulson let out a long sigh

“That was the hardest part.  Knowing how badly Clint took it, how he was being treated. I heard about him getting beaten up after the Peru mission…”

He saw the muscles around her mouth tighten very slightly

“He didn’t tell me about that…”

Coulson had the feeling that certain Field Ops agents might be on unexpected medical leave soon.  Agent Romanoff had her own private idea of what constituted disciplinary procedures where people who messed with Clint Barton were concerned

“…Believe me, Natasha, there were so many times I wanted to ignore Fury’s orders and pick up the phone; to tell him this was one thing he didn’t have to blame himself for.  You know how much I care about him.”

Natasha nodded.  Like any other organisation, SHIELD was a hotbed of malicious gossip.  There had been plenty of rumours that the older agent’s interest in the feral, angry, teenager he’d brought in was more than just professional.  It probably was at first, she thought, Coulson’s buttoned-down control suggested hidden depths to the man.  If so, he’d never acted upon it, instead becoming mentor, guide and surrogate father to a boy who’d known little but abuse, exploitation and violence for much of his life.

A lesser man, seeing Clint’s desperate hunger for affection and acceptance, could easily have taken advantage of those needs; letting him believe it was what he wanted.  Coulson’s ability to sublimate his personal desires and instincts into the service of something other than himself was the man’s true strength.  It made him the paramount agent he’d become and linked the two men closer than any physical connection could.  Thor often spoke about the ‘Workings of Fate’.  She didn’t share the Asgardian’s belief in a web of destiny that wove through their lives and bound them together, but if there was such a thing she could imagine Phil and Clint’s encounter being part of it.

“I know, that’s why I only bloodied your nose instead of driving the bone into your brain.”

Coulson instinctively touched his red and swollen nose.  He could tell Natasha wasn’t joking.

“Thanks” he said, with a nervous laugh “I need it for a little longer.”

She finished her tea and put her cup back down

“I’m not going to tell him.  He wouldn’t be able to cope with it…”

As Ainsley feared, Clint hadn’t reacted well when the med crew arrived to take him to the clinic.  Confused and disoriented, he’d become hysterical; convinced he was back in the days after the attack on the Helicarrier and being removed for interrogation and execution.  It had taken Thor and Steve to hold him down while they sedated him and strapped him to a gurney.  All the time he was screaming for Natasha and Ainsley to help him, not to let them do this, that it hadn’t been his fault and he was sorry.

She’d gone with him to the clinic, Steve accompanying her, but there hadn’t been much point.  He was completely out and Dr Zabriski made it plain that until she’d got him stabilised their presence would be counter-productive.  She’d had some choice things to say about the quality of the psych-care provided at Field Ops; her language hadn’t been as colourful as Ainsley’s but she clearly thought Clint should have been admitted for intensive treatment long before now.  Her report to Director Fury would be spelling that out in great detail.  Natasha had taken an immediate liking to Helen Zabriski, seeing why Ainsley had such regard for her. The short, plump, motherly woman was a force of nature when she was roused.

Ainsley hadn’t come out of the apartment for the rest of the day.  All Thor would say was ‘He is very upset and wants to be left alone.’

“I wish I could be there” Coulson said quietly “I’m glad Clint has you and Dr Kerr.  He needs people to care for him the way you do.”

“I’m going to have to tell Ainsley…” she saw the look of alarm on the Agent’s face. “Don’t worry, he’ll keep it to himself if I ask him.  I think he already has suspicions and he’ll find out one way or another anyway, better if it comes from me.  That way you can ‘consult’ with both of us.”

Coulson grimaced

“Fury won’t like that.”

“For now, Fury’s likes and dislikes aren’t my primary concern.” She looked directly at him “I’m not going to waste my time with blame games.  You had your orders, we had ours; but now the game’s getting too big for us to work in isolation.  If we can’t work together directly it’ll just have to be in a more roundabout fashion.  The good old SHIELD tradition.”

She sat back and crossed her legs, observing the agent’s reactions.  The conflict within him was clear; the old Coulson would never dream of circumventing Director Fury so blatantly, this Coulson had something different about him, a suspicion and ambivalence he would never admit aloud but was written behind his eyes.  As he leaned forward in his seat she could see he’d come to a decision

“What’s your interest in this case?” Caesar had crossed the Rubicon.  Her response was short and to the point

“Barney Barton.”

###

“I’ll need copies of these.  Thor might have some idea of what they are” she looked up at the team gathered around the holo-table.  Agent May carried herself well but vibrated with controlled concern at Coulson’s choice, whether she approved was difficult to tell.  The two women had never worked together but she knew her reputation, and that it was well-deserved. 

Agent Ward? Easier to read, he had a hard time keeping the involuntary tells down.  That might cause him problems if he wasn’t careful; emotional attachments and connections he wasn’t acknowledging which could impact on future choices.

The girl, Sky, open and affectionate; clearly devoted to Coulson.  Still at the start of her learning curve but with a great deal of latent potential.  She was one to watch, possibly cultivate.  Leo Fitz? Mousy and brilliant, hopelessly in love with Jemma Simmons.  Natasha could imagine Isobel Kerr having been very much like her; compassionate, dedicated and with strength that even she didn’t know about until she would have to use it. 

“I can upload them for you” said Sky, eagerly “FitzSimmons has redone them in 3D.”

“Thanks,” said Natasha with a kind smile, handing the girl her phone “there should be enough memory on there.  Just don’t wipe my Kandy Krush high scores.”

The girl’s laugh was shy and nervous; clearly excited and apprehensive to be in her presence, new enough to the world of SHIELD not to be blasé.  Spending so much time around the rest of the Avengers or under deep cover, it was easy to forget how ‘normal’ people reacted.  Natasha realised with slight surprise she liked her.  Clint would like her as well, she could understand why Coulson had taken her under his wing.

“So what now?” asked Ward.  The dark-haired agent’s nervousness about her presence here was evident and he appeared keen to distract her attention from Sky. Jealousy?

“We need to get back on the trail, pick up the scent before it fades” Barney had a habit of not leaving tracks, this was the closest she’d got and didn’t want to waste any more time “’Leon Kruger’ won’t be around much longer and I suspect most of the Devil Dogs are feeding the coyotes right now.”

She gave Ward an appraising glance, her cultured voice slipping into a rich Southern drawl

“Can y’all ride a hawg?”

The bike roared off in a trail of dust, Natasha straddling the back in the approved fashion; arms around Ward’s waist.  Sky joined Coulson at the foot of the ramp

“She’s kinda nicer than I expected as well…” Natasha had given the girl her phone number; invited her to call next time she was in New York. 

Coulson half smiled

“She’s dangerous, she can afford to be nice.” He turned and looked at her “And she’s fiercely loyal, I don’t regret my choice.”

The last was directed at Agent May as she came up behind him. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right call.” She almost smiled at Coulson’s look of faint surprise. “Agent Romanoff is right.  We can’t work in isolation on this, whatever ‘this’ is.”

Coulson turned his attention back to the fading cloud of dust.  Natasha had spoken about the fear she and Dr Kerr shared, the unshakable intuition that something dark and threatening was gathering strength beneath the surface.  It gelled uncomfortably with the concerns that had been growing in him ever since they first ran across Project Centipede.

###

“How are you this evening, Little Bug?” asked Thor as he handed Ainsley his tea and settled down beside him on the couch. “You have been very quiet again today”

“Thinking about Clint” sighed Ainsley, leaning his head against his lover’s shoulder. “Helen called earlier.  He seems less distressed so they’re reducing the sedation.  She asked if I could take some of his personal things along on Saturday to try and help him settle.”

“Will you take Clint something from me?” Thor’s voice faltered “I… I want him to know I still love him.”

He remembered the look on the archer’s face as he helped hold him down to be sedated; the expression of panic and shock in Clint’s eyes before he started howling in terror. Knowing his friend thought he had betrayed him tore Thor’s heart open even though he knew it to be untrue.

Ainsley looked up at him, seeing the grief and doubt in Thor’s eyes. He leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek

“Come with me and give it to him yourself. Clint knows you love him, he’s just a bit confused about things. He was scared, and didn’t know what was happening.”

Thor opened his mouth, hesitated briefly and then began to speak

“I was jealous, when you were first together.” He turned to look at Ainsley, deep sadness in his dark blue eyes “I did not wish to share your heart with another, even Clint.  I tried to, but a part of me always held back even though I loved him as my friend and comrade”

Ainsley opened his mouth to say something but Thor placed a finger lightly against his lips

“Shhh, Little Bug, let me finish.  You know how hard it is for me to find the right words sometimes.”

He lowered his hand and wrapped the doctor in his arms.

“While you were in the hospital I came to truly know Clint the way you know him.  How he is kind, and funny, and good. And how his great heart is devoured by a terrible dark grief.  When I consider my heart, I see you both there and my love for you is not diminished by his presence.”

He raised Ainsley’s hand to his lips and kissed the palm, then held it against his heart.  Tears started to glisten in his eyes

“If stupid, clumsy Thor can love like that, I should not have doubted my wise, gentle healer.  Please forgive me.”

Ainsley rubbed his lover’s chest, feeling the moisture in his own eyes

“There’s nothing to forgive.  I know how difficult this has been for you and I would have ended it any time you asked; but you never did.  Even if you didn’t realise it before, I could see how much you loved Clint.  Maybe even more than I do, and he loves his Big Blond as much as I love my Snuggie-Bear.” 

Thor smiled broadly

“You will always be the light that calls me home, Little Bug” He bent his head and Ainsley deeply and passionately, feeling the young doctor’s body responding against his; knowing they would be properly together for the first time in two months. “I will come with you when you go to Clint, together we will be the light that calls him back to us.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. More Pieces for the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline – Saturday 23rd November 2013
> 
> The visit to Clint doesn’t go well, but Ainsley encounters an unusual young woman who has reason to be grateful to him and gets to discuss options with an old friend.  
> Natasha’s encounter with Coulson and his team has borne fruit but raised more questions.  
>  Steve and Bruce discuss strategy and weird science while three different perspectives on Thor are shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiboux (fr) Owl  
> Ma Tante (fr) My Aunt  
> Tonnerre Blond (fr) Blond Thunder  
> Le Faucon (fr) The Hawk

Clint waited until Ainsley sat down in the In-Patient’s lounge before deciding to come in.  He chose a seat on the far side of the coffee table from the doctor, deliberately out of arms reach.  Unshaven, dressed in jeans and a button-down denim shirt, he looked tired and sullen.   He sat with his hands resting loosely in his lap, not making eye contact or returning Ainsley’s nervous greeting.  This was his fifth day here.  He glanced at the clock on the wall, exactly 102 hours and 17 minutes since Thor, the man he thought was his friend, had held him down while they stuck a needle in his arm. Everything was a bit blurred after that until they started cutting down on the meds, explaining to him where he was and why he was there.  They hadn’t needed to do that, he knew he was in an institution and the people he trusted had put him here.

“You here to take me home?”

Ainsley took a deep breath.  He’d come in no expectation of hugs or smiles; hostility, resentment and suspicion weren’t uncommon reactions in these circumstances.  There had been plenty of times in clinical practise when he’d advised visiting friends and relatives what they were likely to face in the period immediately following involuntary admission. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to face.  

“I’m afraid not, Clint.” The archer folded his arms and turned his head slightly to one side, visibly shutting himself off. “Helen would like you to stay for a bit so she can be sure you’re going to be okay.  We don’t want you here any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“Why’d ya have to put me here, then?”  His tone was truculent, aggressive.  Ainsley hadn’t heard it in Clint’s voice before but it was familiar from watching the recordings of Natasha’s interviews with Abel.  Clearly Clint’s fear and distrust of institutions, born of his experiences as an orphan, was resulting in a degree of regressive behaviour; something he was already prone to.  He’d need to discuss this with Helen afterwards.

“We had no choice, you were breaking apart in front of us.  Agent Hand wanted you relocated to the clinic at the Hub.  I thought Science & Tech was a better option.”

Clint looked him in the eyes for the first time.  The pupils were still slightly dilated but the fogginess wasn’t there, neither was any affection or sign of forgiveness.

“We got safe houses.  Coulda taken me to one of those.”

Ainsley shook his head

“We were losing you, Clint. You needed help.  If we hadn’t made the call you would have shut down completely.”

Clint had dropped his gaze again

“All I’m hearing is lots of words saying I ain’t going home soon.  Why’re you here?”

The doctor was struggling hard to keep his voice under control as he tried to navigate around the wall of hostility between him and Clint.

“I wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay; and I brought some stuff I thought you might like to have with you while you’re here.”

He put Clint’s sketchpad, pencils, and sPod down on the table.

“I got you another charger and some new toiletries; I know you don’t want people going into your room without permission.  Is there anything you want me to get from in there?

Clint shook his head.  That was something at least, they were still respecting his privacy.  He waited until Ainsley sat back before pulling his stuff over. 

“Thanks. Where’s Tasha?”

She hadn’t stopped them taking him, but sometimes Tasha played things slow and sly.  Maybe he could still trust her at least.

“She’s away for a few days, chasing up a lead before it goes cold.  Do you want to see her when she gets back?

Ainsley didn’t want to give out too much information just now.  Clint wasn’t in a state to get worked up over their investigations, but he also hoped it might help shift the heavily one-sided exchange into something closer to a conversation. 

Clint just nodded.  The man’s body language indicated he was thinking of leaving.  That was why he’d wanted to see the doctor in the patient’s lounge rather than the more private visiting lounge on the other side of the clinic; from here he could go straight to his room, freeing him up to end the meeting any time he wanted.

“Thor’s here with me” Ainsley said hesitantly “Would you like to see him? He’s brought you a present”

Clint stood up and picked up his stuff, shaking his head

“Don’t want anything”

He left without looking back.  Ainsley stayed sitting for a few moments.  His hands were shaking slightly and he needed to steady himself before going to find Helen.  The voice beside him came as a surprise.

“He doesn’t really hate you”

It was the auburn-haired girl who’d been watching cartoons on the other side of the lounge, he hadn’t heard her come over.  Her voice was soft but with a thick Eastern European accent.

“Pardon me?”

She sat down on the arm of the seat and smiled at him, her expression gentle and distant

“He doesn’t hate you.  He just cannot tell yet who are the monsters and who truly loves him. He will remember you love him very soon”

Ainsley smiled back, that was a remarkably perceptive analysis of Clint’s mental state and he hoped her prognosis was as accurate.

“Thank you.  You’re very kind, Miss…?”

“My name is Wanda” she leaned over and whispered in his ear “and you are one of those who the monsters should fear.”

Ainsley looked at her in surprise, reminded of what his grandmother said many years previously.  Before he could speak further a nurse appeared in the doorway

“Miss Maximoff? Time for your afternoon session.”

The girl hopped of the arm of the chair with a smile.

“I hope I see you again, Good Doctor.  I like you.”

As she left the nurse came over to Ainsley

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you, Wanda can be a bit fanciful at times”

“No, no she wasn’t” he picked up his coat and made ready to go find Helen, still pondering the girl’s strange words “She was just being kind, that’s all.”

As expected, Helen was in her office.  She looked up with a raised eyebrow when he entered

“As bad as you expected, _Hiboux_?”

“Every bit, _ma Tante_ , I’m not used to my charm falling so flat” he smiled thinly and accepted the coffee she offered, prepared in the Viennese way they both enjoyed. “You’ve noted the regression towards adolescent behaviour patterns?”

Helen nodded and handed him Clint’s file

“It’s all in here. perhaps you could review it and give me your opinions?”

Ainsley looked at the stamp on the cover

“ _Ma Tante_ ; this is Level 6…”

Helen shrugged her shoulders.  Where patient care was concerned the niceties of SHIELD clearance levels took second place for her.

“You were Karl-Heinrich’s last and most gifted student.  He trusted you and that merits my absolute trust, a rare thing in this organisation.”

Ainsley glanced through the synopsis on the first page.

“It goes without saying, but he needs to be given as much freedom of action as possible within the circumstances.  If he believes he’s being un-necessarily restrained it’s just going to drive him further into that cycle.  Intense physical activity is best for him; Clint always says he thinks better with his body than his brain.”

Helen chuckled as she made a note on the treatment form.

“Most men do, _Hiboux_ , I’ll make sure he gets plenty of gym time booked in.  Take the file and have a good read through it, there are some details of his previous clearance process that trouble me and I would like your guidance.”

“Certainly, it’ll be my pleasure.” he slipped the file into his bag “By the way, there was a girl who spoke to me after Clint left; Wanda Maximoff.  What’s her story?”

Helen thought for a moment, then it came back to her.

“Wanda is one of your Index cases.  There was a question mark over whether she was Gifted or just delusional.  You took the side of compassion and engineered her transfer here from that other place.”

He remembered now, a young Sokovian refugee girl; some odd phenomena associated with the case but nothing that merited her confinement.  He’d meant to follow up on it but the attack and his hospitalisation intervened. 

“Of course, yes, the suggestion of poltergeist activity; possible connected with extreme trauma.  I’d like to review her file once I’m back in the office.”

“Definitely, I think it will interest you greatly.” Helen leaned towards him conspiratorially “You are getting a bad reputation in SHIELD, _Hiboux_.  Some consider you too humanitarian, too liberal.”

She grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes

“They have even suggested you might be _European_!”

Ainsley laughed and made a shushing gesture.  Helen had always known how to cheer him up even in his darkest moments.  He finished his coffee

“I ought to go and see Thor now” he sighed “Clint doesn’t want to see him, that was made very clear.”

Helen got up to go with him.  He took her arm and they walked down the corridor to the visiting lounge where Steve and Thor were waiting.  Steve had kindly driven them up this morning.  Tony had the jet this weekend, attempting to reconnect with Pepper, while Ainsley didn’t feel up to making the long drive himself; there was also the problem that the doctor’s vintage sports car was a bit of a tight squeeze for Thor.

Thor stood up as Ainsley and Dr Zabriski came into the room.  The warrior’s expectant smile faded as Ainsley gently shook his head

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t want to see anyone else today…”

Thor picked up a package from the table.  He turned it nervously in his hands, looking hurt and confused.

“Did you tell him I brought him a present?”

He’d managed to find a sleeveless Superman hoodie for Clint to wear when they went out on runs, it would match well with his own Batman one.  He hoped it would remind Clint of all the good times they had together before this terrible week.

Dr Zabriski held out her hand

“I will give it to him, _Tonnerre Blond_ , and makes sure he knows it comes to him with your love”

Thor handed the garment over to her.  He liked this plump, grey-haired woman who scarcely came up to the level of his chest.  She was kind but had steel in her and he was glad this was the doctor caring for Clint

“Thank you, Dr Helen. I am grateful to you.”

She smiled and patted his arm.

“Clint does not want to see anyone yet, except Agent Romanoff when she returns.  It took me a lot of effort to persuade him to see Edward for a few minutes”

Despite Dr Zabriski’s excellent command of English there was always trouble with pronouncing ‘Ainsley’, so she was the only person permitted to use the doctor’s middle name.

“It is a long journey for very little.  It would be best perhaps to wait until he is in a better frame of mind for company.”

“Helen’s right” Ainsley said to Steve and Thor “I know it’s hard to hear, but there’s so much hostility and resentment in the initial period that it’s not beneficial to anyone.  She’ll keep us up to date on Clint’s progress and when he’s ready for us to visit again.”

Steve scratched the back of his head

“What do you want to do now, Dr Kerr?” He glanced over at Thor, the Asgardian stood with his hands thrust into his pockets, staring miserably out of the window. “We can go for a turn around the campus if you want to catch up with Dr Zabriski.”

Ainsley glanced at Helen, the two of them had said most of what they needed to and he knew she had a very busy schedule, even on a Saturday.

“Thanks Steve, but I think we ought to start back. It’s a long drive” He kissed Helen on the cheek “I’ll call you on Monday, _ma Tante_ , and I’m back on Thursday to meet Ann so we can talk properly then.”

“Of course, _Hiboux_ , travel safely” she turned to the other men “I will take good care of _Le Faucon_ for you.”

“What’s with all the French nicknames?” Steve asked as they pulled out of the campus onto the main road.  Ainsley laughed

“She’s always done that, easier to remember than names at first she says.  I became ‘Owl’ because of my glasses and the late hours I like to keep.”

“She didn’t have one for me” said Steve, sounding a bit put out.

Ainsley glanced sidelong at him, an amused twinkle in his eyes 

“Steve, you’re a national icon.  It would be like calling the Washington Monument ‘Mr Pointy’.”

“Thanks!” Steve snorted and switched on the radio “Just for that it’s going to be big-band all the way back.”

Ainsley checked the rear-view mirror.  Thor sprawled across the back seat with his headphones in, intent on his sPod as he selected his personal soundtrack for the journey back.  The Asgardian had obviously been deeply upset by Clint’s refusal to see him.  He could still be quite simplistic, sometimes even child-like, when it came to confronting difficult emotional situations; Thor was far from stupid but he liked things clean and straightforward.  Black and White he could handle easily, the complex spectrum between was harder for him to process.  In his lover’s mind an honest gesture of friendship should solve many things and he’d hoped this would be the case with Clint, even though on a deeper level he knew the feelings of anger and betrayal in the archer’s disturbed mind would not be banished so easily.  The doctor began to prepare himself for a conversation later, one that would last deep into the night.

###

“Leon Kruger is now Jerome Struthers?” Coulson swiped through the photographs Natasha had taken “We’re going to need a flow-chart before much longer.”

“He had a drop-box in the bus station at Flagstaff; passport, driving license, money.  It looks like he’s heading east.  Ward has his trail just now.” 

She’d parted company with the agent near the New Mexico border.  Working with him had been interesting.  He wasn’t quite in Clint’s league, few people were, but there was an efficient ruthlessness about him and he was definitely more than just competent.  Behind that was something she couldn’t determine.  There were secrets in Ward that he couldn’t completely hide, at least from her.  That was never any surprise in SHIELD.  No-one ever had the whole picture, possibly not even Fury, but something about the agent made her uneasy.  She clearly had the same effect on him, he’d been very glad when the time came for them to go their separate ways.  Coulson trusted him though, and Maria rated him highly as an agent if not a person. Airing her doubts would only be counter-productive at the moment but she didn’t plan on letting them lie fallow.

“Anything from Thor about the artefacts?”

“He thinks they’re old, and when an Asgardian says that we’re talking ancient in our terms.  The designs don’t mean anything to him though.” She glanced at Coulson with a sly smile “Ainsley would hate me for saying this but, as you’ve probably noticed, Thor isn’t always the brightest.  I think he ignored those parts of his education that didn’t involve fighting, feasting or fucking.”

Coulson laughed.  It was a harsh assessment, typical of Natasha, but not completely untrue.

“No chance he could call home?”

She shook her head

“That’s a sensitive point, I gather he’s not exactly a welcome face just now.  It would take more than this to justify him showing up without an invitation.  Seems Asgard is just like everywhere else when it comes to politics.”

“Nice to know we’ve got some things in common” he grunted “You staying around or can I give you a lift anywhere?”

“I have to get back to New York, you going near there?”

He shook his head

“Unfortunately, no. I can give you a ride to the airport though” he grinned “I’m sure you’ve missed Lola.”

An Arizona November was still warm compared to New York and driving with the hood down was pleasantly refreshing.

“Did Fury really believe he could keep your resurrection under wraps forever?” Natasha asked “It’s not as if you were being kept in hiding.”

“I honestly don’t know” Coulson replied.  He’d wondered that himself, despite the level 7 classification they’d interacted with plenty of agents below that level at the Hub, the Academy and elsewhere.  It could only have been a matter of time before something or someone slipped.  In hindsight, running into Natasha was the best possible option.

“No doubt Fury has his own contingency plans for this type of scenario.”

Natasha’s look was openly cynical

“No doubt it’ll involve him being ‘unavailable’ until the storm’s blown over.”

Coulson laughed, for an unpredictable man Director Fury had some very predictable habits.

“You don’t believe him about Tahiti, do you?”

He’d been waiting for Natasha to ask that.  He pulled over to the side of the road and turned to look at her.  The haunted, questioning look was back in his eyes.

“No, I don’t” there was a note of anguish in his voice “whatever they did to me has been buried deep. Where I was treated, when and by who?  None of the details match up.  They changed me, and I don’t know how.”

Natasha stared off towards the horizon, hearing the depths of Phil’s pain

“I’ll try to find out what I can, even Fury can’t have erased every trace, and Ainsley has a gift for problem solving.”

“I know” said Coulson starting up the engine again “I think that’s why Director Fury doesn’t want me anywhere near him.”

###

Bruce was in the living room, watching an old black and white movie, when Steve came in

“Jekyll & Hyde?” The surprise in his voice was plain

Bruce turned round with a grin

“It’s only bad taste if anyone else watches it.  I’ve always enjoyed it; kinda ironic don’t you think?”

“A bit” laughed Steve, hanging his jacket up

“There’s stew on the stove and fresh rolls in the cupboard.  Nat called to say she’ll be back around midnight; also, a zillion messages from Hill and Hand asking you to return their calls.”

Steve had felt his phone vibrating against his hip all day and deliberately avoided checking it.

“Oh, is that what those were?” he said with a look of perfect innocence “I just though Stark had set up another dating profile for me.”

He pulled out his phone.  Voicemail full and over thirty text messages, all from the two agents.

“I think I can guess what that’s about.”

Steve nodded.  Victoria Hand, with her usual grace and tact, was already pushing for the Captain to begin shortlisting candidates for Clint’s replacement.  In her opinion the archer’s committal obviated any further need for review or evaluation.  Hill was more circumspect, talking about contingencies and secondary options, but the message from both women was clear.

“I’m not replacing Barton” he said, as much to himself as to Bruce “Not while there’s still a chance for him to sort himself out.”

Bruce got up and joined him by the kitchen

“It couldn’t hurt to have a back-up though, isn’t that the whole idea behind the Academy Project?”

Steve put his phone back in his pocket.  He wasn’t in the mood to talk to either agent this evening

“That’s still only on paper, and they wouldn’t be doing this if Barton had broken his leg or been shot…”

Bruce finished pouring coffee for the two of them and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder

“Mental illness has still got a big stigma round it, and there’s plenty who’ll see this as a good opportunity to finally get rid of Clint.” He thought for a moment “Play their game for a bit, it’ll buy us all some time.”

Steve looked at him questioningly.  He sometimes forgot Dr Banner had spent years hiding from and evading various intelligence and military groups, developing a strong and cunning survival sense in the process.  The scientist continued

“Take your time in selecting half a dozen or so plausible candidates, then we can hum and haw over them until Clint’s in a position for a proper review to take place.  In the meantime, Ainsley and Dr Zabriski can push for a full investigation into the quality of the mental health care available to field agents while you and Stark make Fury’s life a misery with submissions and counter submissions.”

Steve smiled broadly

“You know, Dr Banner, that sounds like a pretty good plan of attack.  We’ll run that past the others but I think they’ll like it.”

“Speaking of the others” said Bruce “looking towards the elevator doors “did Ainsley and Thor stay up at the Academy?”

Steve shook his head

“They went straight to their apartment.  Clint didn’t want to see Thor and he’s pretty broken up about that.  Didn’t say much the whole journey back; for a 1200-year-old warrior demi-god he can be a bit of a big kid at times.”

Bruce tilted his head in thought, this was something he’d been wondering about for a while and his conclusion was so off the wall as to be almost plausible

“This’ll sound a bit crazy, but relatively speaking Thor’s probably the youngest member of the team.”

“You’re right” Steve gave him a puzzled look “That does sound a bit crazy, how’d you work that out?”

Thor was only one example of his race, and with the tendency to excel physically rather than intellectually, but he’d never struck Bruce as having the level of mental or emotional development that might be expected from someone who’d lived nearly twelve centuries.  He’d come to the tentative conclusion that Asgardians experienced the flow of time differently to humans.  Based on what Thor had told him, the average Asgardian life expectancy was around 4,500 to 5000 human years.  Translating that into human terms it put Thor roughly in the equivalent of his early 20s, which was certainly compatible with the way he looked, thought and acted.

“Plus, take into account he grew up as a royal prince in a feudal court; so he still has an expectation that one word or gesture from him should be enough to solve any problem.”

Steve nodded to himself as he ladled himself out another bowlful of stew.  That did make a strange sort of sense

“If that idea’s true it sounds like the Nine Realms he talks about may be different dimensions, rather than other planets.”

Bruce took off his glasses and polished them on the tail of his shirt.  They were straying well into weird science territory but it was a welcome distraction.

“That’s entirely possible; certainly, the normal laws of physics don’t appear to operate in some of them.  We’re still taking baby steps in this new order of things.  I think a lot more of the old ideas are going to vanish out the window before we even begin to start understanding the world we now live in.”

He laughed at the slightly uncomfortable expression on Steve’s face

“Wishing they’d left you in the ice after all?”

Steve nodded with a wry half-smile

“Sometimes I think that would’ve been simpler.”

###

Carmen Ortez enjoyed night cleaning at the clinic.  It was always quiet and there was never much to do.  Most of the patients seemed pretty good at tidying up after themselves.  The bathrooms were the biggest job but she and Pavla always doubled up on those, made it easier and quicker.  The last thing to do was empty the wastebaskets the patients left outside their bedrooms every night, then she could spend the rest of her shift drinking coffee and watching TV in the nurses’ break room.

Tonight, she’d scored a bonus.  One of the wastebaskets felt heavier than it should.  She’d checked carefully, and underneath the balled-up newspaper was a brand-new hoodie, still in its shrink-rap; top quality too.  She checked the size on the label, just right for Channing.  That was one Christmas present less to worry about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	22. The Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Wednesday 4th December 2013
> 
> Natasha’s visit finds Clint feeling better and eager to come home. Ainsley’s recovery continues and he turn to Bruce to help him solve the enigma of Wanda Maximoff.  
> Thor and Steve return from a tough mission and Steve discovers he has his own connection to Dr Kerr through a dark and troubling secret in the psychologist’s family history.

“Try not to throw this one away” Natasha said, placing a bag down on the table in front of Clint. “You have no idea how hard it was to find.”

Clint put his sketchbook to one side and pulled the hoodie out the bag

“Thanks” he looked down at the Superman logo on the front “I feel kinda stupid…”

She put a comforting hand on his arm

“You weren’t yourself.  It probably wasn’t the best time.”

It was a week and half since Clint had been admitted and this was her fourth visit.  He was shedding the anger and paranoia; appearing more resigned and embarrassed.  He’d not asked to seen any of the others yet, but on the last visit sheepishly admitted to throwing away a present Thor sent him and hadn’t turned down her offer to find a replacement without the big warrior finding out. 

“You think I’m myself now?” he looked at her questioningly “Dr Zabriski reckons they never really fixed what Loki did to me. 

Natasha nodded, that had been Ainsley’s opinion as well after reviewing Clint’s medical file. He thought her ‘cognitive recalibration’ had probably done more good than the subsequent attempts at deconditioning.  They still didn’t understand exactly what the energy of the Sceptre had done to Clint’s mind so trying to undo its effects had been hit and miss at best.  For months afterwards he’d have nightmares of waking up and looking in the mirror to see that dead, icy, glow in his eyes. 

“At least you don’t think we’re all in a conspiracy against you anymore,” she picked up the sketchbook “and you’re drawing again.  May I?”

“Knock yourself out” For years, Natasha was the only one he allowed to see his drawings.  She’d no idea where he’d learned, but the pages were filled with sensitive, skilfully executed still-lifes and portraits.  Over the years, she’d come to understand it as a measure of his mental wellbeing; he only picked up the pencil when he felt steady enough to confront what was inside him.  There were a lot of Phil, she noted, including one of him behind the wheel of Lola; the suggestion of the wind ruffling his hair caught with a few, masterful strokes.  Natasha made a mental note to let Phil know that Clint was sketching once more.  He’d be relieved to hear that.

She’d told Ainsley about Agent Coulson a couple of days after getting back to New York, taking him out for a drive to make sure they were well away from the penthouse.  Despite Stark’s assurances, Natasha was unconvinced that he couldn’t over-ride Jarvis’s privacy filters whenever he wanted.  As she’d suspected, the young doctor wasn’t too surprised.  That hadn’t stopped him being angry at the protracted deception but he’d agreed that telling Clint or the others would be a bad idea, seeing the advantage of working in tandem with Coulson’s team to give them an edge on whatever was happening. 

Natasha turned another couple of pages in the sketchbook, noticing a few studies of an elfin-faced girl with a twinkle in her eyes

“And who’s this?” she asked. Clint smiled

“That’s Wanda, she’s a resident here.  Kinda kooky but nice; I think she’s taken me under her wing.”

He saw the lift of the eyebrow and the slight smile twitching around his friend’s mouth.

“Aw, for Christ’s sake, Tasha!  She’s barely 18.  I’m almost old enough to be her…”

He carded his fingers through his hair and sighed

“Does Abel know about this?”          

Natasha put the sketchbook down on the table and placed a hand in his arm.

“He knows about the suicide attempt, and that you’re getting treatment.  I didn’t want to go into the specifics without your permission.

Clint gave a short, humourless laugh

“What? That his dad’s gone full Cuckoo’s Nest? Bet he’ll love that.”

“Actually, he seemed pretty shaken up by it…”

It sounded warped, but Natasha had been glad the news hit Abel badly.  It was the first real indication the boy might be able to empathise with his father’s situation and gave her an opening to work with.  She couldn’t see any Father/Son sports days soon but if she could persuade Abel to at least give Clint a chance to prove himself it was a beginning.

“You might want to consider a visit sometime soon.  I don’t think he hates you as much as he pretends.”

“That’s comforting” said Clint with a dry smile “Define ‘soon’”

Natasha sat back and crossed her legs

“Dr Zabriski seems to think that if you keep making progress you might be able to come home next week” she paused “If you want to come home, that is.”

“Rented out my room already, huh?”

“We tried” she laughed “but your socks have gone feral and started hunting in packs.  If you feel comfortable here there’s no reason why you can’t stay on, although we miss not having you around.”

Clint looked out of the big picture window, across the winter-frosted garden.  He shook his head

“I don’t wanna stay.  It’s nice enough but you know what I think about places like this” He glanced up at the ceiling with a grin “Plus I don’t feel safe anywhere the ventilation ducts are too small for me to crawl around in.”

He rested his head on her shoulder

“And I miss you guys too.  I was kinda rough on Doc when he was here, how’s he doing?”

Natasha smiled and put her arm around him, giving her friend a gentle hug

“He’s doing fine. He seems to have taken an interest in your friend Wanda as well, thinks she’s a fascinating case.  Thor’s unhappy Ainsley’s still working but so long as it’s just reading files he’s not making a fuss about it”

She laughed

“He’s talking about taking him to Tony’s cabin in Aspen for a few days to relax. ‘There he will have nothing to do but Thor!’”

It was Clint’s turn to laugh, Natasha’s attempts to imitate Thor were as bad as his impressions of Ainsley.  A few days with nothing but the Big Blond did sound like a good way to convalesce though.

“Could you say hi to him for me, next time you speak to him?  Tell him I’m sorry for being such a douche.”

“You weren’t being a douche, for once!” Natasha leaned her head against his. “You didn’t know what was happening and you were scared out your wits.  I think we all were.  I haven’t seen Tony that freaked out since the time you and Bruce hid Furbies all around the lab.”

###

The living room was dark and quiet when Bruce came in to make a cup of tea.  Tony, Steve and Thor were away in Italy on a mission, something involving artificially enhanced mercenaries which Fury deemed of sufficient importance to merit the ‘big guns’.  He was glad the biggest wasn’t required.  The Other Guy had felt restless and irritable the last few days, probably missing Clint, and he wasn’t sure how much control there would be if he had to come out and ‘play’.  As he poured the boiling water into the pot he cocked his head at a faint noise; there were hints of music coming from the quiet lounge, Chopin. 

Ever since Tony had joked that you could tell the doctor’s mood simply by his playlist Bruce had been taking note, more for his own amusement than anything else.  Chopin usually indicated ‘Sad and thoughtful’.  He tapped gently on the glass door and looked in, Ainsley was asleep on the couch with an open file lying on his chest.  Bruce gently shook him awake

“Hey, I’m making tea, would you like a cup?”

“Thank you, that would be great” said Ainsley, hauling himself upright “I just closed my eyes for 5 minutes, what time is it?”

“Past 1am” smiled Bruce, picking up the file which had slid onto the floor “Wanda Maximoff?  You’re interested in Clint’s new friend as well?”

“It’s an intriguing case” admitted Ainsley, “I think you might like to take a look at it as well, I’ve got a suspicion her supposed abilities may not be entirely natural.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.  The psychologist was rarely suspicious without good reason, this might prove an interesting distraction

“Pieces missing from the puzzle?” he asked.  Ainsley nodded

“Yes. I’m no scientist but I thought there would be more technical data; comparative DNA studies and that kind of thing.” He handed the file back across to Bruce “Would you mind having a read and letting me know what you think?”

Bruce leafed through the file, even on first glance he could see what Ainsley was talking about.  There were a lot of psychological and psychiatric studies but much of the medical information he would have expected was absent.  The name of a Dr Liszt kept cropping up and that rang a bell somewhere deep in his mind.

“Sure” he said, closing the file “but only on condition you have your tea and go to bed.  We don’t want to have to deal with Grumpy Thor again.”

Ainsley laughed as he got to his feet

“Yes, I know Tony thinks his insurance premiums are high enough as it is.  He’s all right with me reading, it’s all the running about and phone calls he wants me to cut down on”

The doctor wriggled his shoulders to get the kinks out, feeling a bit stiff from sleeping so long on the couch

“I see his point.  I did rather over-stretch myself with Clint.” He paused “Any word from Natasha?”

“She called earlier” Bruce told him “She’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.  Clint’s doing a lot better apparently; much less stressed.”

The two men talked a bit more while they drank their tea.  Ainsley appreciated that Bruce had become a little more sociable since Clint had his breakdown, not exactly gregarious but hiding himself away less.  Like all of them, he felt the void caused by the archer’s absence from the Penthouse and was trying in his own way to compensate for it by emerging from his shell a little.  Having the Maximoff case to discuss helped; it gave them a point of mutual interest without the doctor treading in any territory that made Bruce feel uncomfortable.  Eventually the doctor could feel his head nodding and he stood up.

“I’m off to bed, Bruce” he patted the scientist on the arm “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.”

“ _De nada_! Sleep well.” Murmured Bruce with a smile as Ainsley wandered towards the elevators.  He turned his attention back to the file, biting his bottom lip nervously as he looked through the reports.  The missing information bothered him deeply.  It was the kind of thing Nat had spoken about, the strange loose ends that suggested to her that another, darker, game was being played beneath the surface of SHIELD’s usual machinations.

###

Ainsley didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but it was still dark when he was woken by Thor trying to be quiet as he stripped off his battle armour.  He lay there for a moment, enjoying the sight of his lover silhouetted against the light from the bathroom.  He looked tired, his broad shoulders slumped and his movements weary.

“Hey, Snuggie Bear!” Ainsley murmured “Tough mission?”

Thor threw his breastplate down on the couch and peeled off his undershirt

“I am sorry, Little Bug.  I did not mean to wake you.” His voice was as slow and heavy as his movements.  He sat down on the bed and kissed Ainsley, the doctor could see the strain in the big warrior’s face.

“It was a hard fight.  The enemy had some sort of…” he gestured at his forearm “…enhancement that made their strength and endurance beyond human.  We lost men.”

“Steve…?” Ainsley asked nervously

“He has bruises, but is well” Thor assured him “as am I”

The loss of brother warriors was inevitable in battle, and he would remember them with honour, but it did not make it any easier to deal with. 

“Have you been resting properly?” he asked, stroking Ainsley’s face.  It had been a hard three days but he was back with the man he loved.  Tonight, he could rest easily.

“Just reading, I promise!” smiled Ainsley “No phone calls or meetings; and plenty of early nights.”

“I am sorry I became angry with you” Thor said, leaning in and kissing him “I worry that you will make yourself ill and I do not wish for that to happen.”

“What would I do without my big Snuggie Bear to worry about me?” murmured Ainsley, running his fingers through Thor’s hair.  It was still damp with sweat and matted with grime “Want me to scrub your back for you?”

Thor grinned, feeling his heart lighten a little.

“Please, I would enjoy that very much.”

###

Steve pulled a clean T Shirt on and sat down at his worktable. He’d grabbed a couple of hours’ fitful sleep and couldn’t see any point in laying his head back down.  He was still too pumped and needed to unwind.  Continuing work on his latest project might help.  It was the most ambitious to date, a three-foot-long scale model of the airship USS Akron.  He’d seen it in the window of a hobby shop downtown last week and had been spending most of his spare time on it since.  His brows furrowed with concentration as he assembled the delicate parts of the engine nacelles.  The knock at the door surprised him.  It was almost five in the morning and normally no-one was up around this time.  Bruce’s lab had been dark when they came in.  Both Tony and Thor had headed straight to their respective beds, exhausted by the hard fight.

He was surprised to find it was Dr Kerr.  He would have thought the psychologist would have been comfortably tucked up in bed with Thor.

“Everything okay, Dr Kerr?”

“Yes, I’m fine” he answered “Just having problems sleeping and thought if anyone was likely to be up it would be you. Thor’s in full Deep Sleep mode so he’s going to be out for at least a day.”

Ainsley saw the model parts laid out on Steve’s desk.

“If I’m interrupting anything I can just go up to the library and read for a bit.”

“No, not all” replied Steve “Come on in and I’ll make us some tea.  Could do with giving my eyes a break.”

There was something odd about Dr Kerr’s manner, like he was waking up from a dream but still half in it.  Steve wondered if it might be the effects of whatever medication the doctor was still on, or if he hadn’t fully adjusted to being back home after his time in hospital.  Steve started fixing tea, peppermint for himself and regular for the doctor, while Dr Kerr examined the model he was working on.

“Did I ever tell you my maternal grandmother flew on the Hindenburg when she was young?  Not the last flight, fortunately, but in the day it was quite the way to travel if you were part of the smart set.”

“No, you didn’t” Steve handed Dr Kerr his tea “Must have been an incredible experience.”

Ainsley nodded

“She told me a bit about it when I was a child, unfortunately all her photograph albums were destroyed in the bombing of Munich.”

Steve was perplexed and a bit troubled.  Dr Kerr had become less reticent about speaking of his sister but beyond mentioning his mother was German that part of the family history had never been referred to.  The soldier had never pushed the subject, assuming it was one that Dr Kerr didn’t feel right discussing around someone whose memories of fighting the Nazis were just under four years old or maybe touched on things the doctor felt uncomfortable having in his background.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could think to say.  Going by the age of Dr Kerr’s mother in the photograph he’d seen, his grandmother must have been in her late 20s or early 30s towards the end of the war. If her grandson was anything to go by, he could imagine her as a cultured, aristocratic, woman struggling to cope with the collapse of her world into madness and fire. “Are you sure you’re all right?  You don’t seem yourself.  Would you like me to call Dr Palmer?”

Ainsley shook his head

“No, honestly I’m fine.  I’ve just been dreaming about her a lot recently, or rather remembering a dream that I had when I was in hospital.”

He turned to Steve and smiled but there was a forced quality to it, as if he was trying to figure out a way of telling him something but didn’t know how to begin.

“She used to tell me these awful old Bavarian fairy stories, the ones where wicked stepmothers got shoved into ovens or forced to dance in red hot iron shoes.  Definitely not Disney material!”

He laughed and took a drink of tea

“I was quite a gruesome little child and always loved hearing them.  Whenever she came to visit I would burrow in beside her and listen all evening.  She’d call me ‘ _Kleiner Käfer_ ’”

“Little Bug!” Steve grinned, he could remember most of the German he’d picked up in his time with the Howling Commandos. “Isn’t that what Thor calls you?”

“Yes” replied Ainsley with a curious expression “and I don’t recall ever mentioning that to anyone.”

Steve’s concern was growing.  Dr Kerr’s distracted and almost trance-like manner and the strange randomness of the conversation gave him the feeling that something very out of the ordinary, even for life in the Penthouse, was happening.

“There was another set of stories she told me, or more like one story with lots of episodes.  I was never able to find it in any of the anthologies and always assumed it was some local tradition from her part of Bavaria or something she made up herself.”

He paused, and Steve could see his hands were shaking

“She called it “Der Rote Schädel und der Mutige Kapitän”

_The Red Skull and the Brave Captain_

Steve’s stomach felt like it was dropping 60 stories in a high-speed elevator. Ainsley looked at him and he could see that the doctor was frightened

“Steve, did you ever meet Sophia von Leibeskreuz?”

Steve couldn’t remember feeling this cold since the frigid waters of the Arctic ocean closed around him.  He’d never met Dr Sophia von Leibeskreuz, but he’d seen her.  He’d seen her in Kreischberg, fleeing with Arnim Zola as Johann Schmidt activated the self-destruct sequences. SSR had code-named her ‘The Witch’; Zola’s protégé, a brilliant scientist with a depth and breadth of insight that to many seemed supernatural.  Rumour had it she was the one person who could look the Red Skull in the eye without flinching.

He looked at her grandson sitting across from her, the same light brown hair and bright grey eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed the resemblance before? Bucky had always warned him he should never play poker, he could tell from Dr Kerr’s expression that his own look of shock and horror must be plain to see.

“Oh God! Steve…” Dr Kerr gasped, his own eyes full of dread “Please… Tell me she wasn’t…”

###

Clint felt someone shaking him awake and his eyes blinked open. Wanda stood over him, she was saying something, looking frightened.  He held up a hand to stop her and reached for his hearing aids.

“Wanda…? What..?”

“The Good Doctor is starting to remember” she said, her voice trembling “The Monsters will be waking soon.”

 

 


	23. Owning up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday December 6th 2013  
> Fury gets a grilling from some annoyed Avengers and reveals the truth behind Ainsley’s grandmother and the reason for the young doctor’s presence.  
> Fury and the Avengers reflect on Dr Kerr’s analysis of the situation while Clint gets some good news and comes to a tough decision.  
> Dr Whitehall enjoys a moment of reflection

“How about the truth, Fury?” snapped Tony “You know what that is don’t you?  It’s when you tell the people you’re supposed to be working with what’s actually going on.  That might be a very good place to start.”

Fury looked at the small group assembled in the living area of Stark’s penthouse.  Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanoff all looked distinctly unhappy with him.  Steve stood in front of the fireplace with his arms folded across his chest.  The SHIELD Director had almost expected him to be suited up, but Steve had never needed the red, white and blue suit to project an air of aggrieved authority.

“You can’t get away with telling us it wasn’t relevant.” Steve said angrily “It’s very relevant, especially to me.”

Nick Fury was rarely willing to admit, even to himself, that he’d made a tactical error but he had to agree with Maria Hill’s assessment.  There had always been the danger they would find out about Dr Kerr’s grandmother by accident; he should have briefed them once he was convinced the psychologist was firmly embedded.

“Yes, it was a mistake” he admitted

“Wow!” exclaimed Tony “Someone check out the window for flying pigs!”

“Shut up, Tony” muttered Bruce “If Fury’s going to tell us, let him speak.”

“I wanted Dr Kerr on the team” Fury said “I believed that prematurely revealing his grandmother’s history might prejudice that.”

“Prematurely implies you were going to tell us at some point…” Tony paused in the middle of pouring himself a drink as he realised what the Director had just said “What? Wait… you wanted him on the team?”

Fury sat down.  It was going to be a long story but for once he would be forced to tell them everything.

“Sophia von Lebenskreuz wasn’t just a brilliant scientist,” he began “She was Gifted…”

It hadn’t just been the woman’s phenomenal intellect and analytical ability that made her one of the foremost young physicists in late 1930’s Germany; she had an abnormal talent for seeing beneath the surface of things, to deduct patterns and likely outcomes from sometimes minimal objective data.  It was that gift that first drew her to the attention of the Red Skull and later led her to see the Third Reich was ultimately doomed. 

“…in 1944 she contacted Peggy Carter, providing intelligence and strategic analysis that was invaluable in tracking down and eradicating HYDRA cells and bases in the final months of the war…”

“So, she saw the ship was sinking and secured her place in a lifeboat?” observed Bruce “Pragmatic.”

“There’s nothing about her in the Project Paperclip files” said Tony, the whiskey was mellowing him but his voice was still ripe with suspicion “and nothing to suggest she continued her scientific work after the war. More secrets?”

“Not every scientist was included in Paperclip” acknowledged Fury “Some were too significant to be named.  While we did have an interest in Dr Von Lebenskreuz’s work…”

“You were more interested in her ability…” stated Natasha, suddenly understanding what was going on “and you think Ainsley has the same gift.”

“We had him and his sister under observation for some time…”

What made a person Gifted was still a matter of ongoing debate, but heredity had not been discounted as a factor so the children and grandchildren of Gifted persons remained of interest.  Sophia’s daughter had shown no sign of extraordinary ability, but both her grandchildren had demonstrated unusual degrees of insight and analysis from an early age and had been placed under active observation.  As Ainsley reached university age and his abilities became even more evident SHIELDs most eminent psychological specialist, Professor Karl-Heinrich Feldermann, had been instructed to take an active involvement in the young man’s education and training.

“And what about his sister?” asked Steve, his own suspicions evident in the dark undertones of his voice

“Dr Isobel Kerr’s death was a tragic incident in the Bafendi War, nothing more…”

“I can assure you it was significantly more than that to me.”

Ainsley was coming down the steps into the lounge, looking pale and angry but with the calm focus familiar to them from when he had a project in his sight. Close behind him came a stern-faced Thor.

“Dr Kerr, I didn’t mean…” began Fury.  Steve held a hand up to stop him and walked over to the doctor.

“Dr Kerr… Ainsley…” he held out his hand “I’m sorry I reacted so badly.  Finding out like this, it’s been a huge shock to all of us, to you most of all I imagine.  I just want you to know this doesn’t affect how I regard you, either as a friend or a member of this team.”

“Thank you, Steve” replied Ainsley, taking his hand “I know this must be difficult for you, I appreciate this.”

Thor gave Steve a grateful nod; he’d trusted Steve and the others would not hold the acts of Ainsley’s grandmother against him.  His Little Bug had proven his goodness of heart too many times for him to believe there could be any thread of such darkness within him.  He could see from the expressions of the other Avengers that they shared Steve’s sentiment.  Their anger and resentment was reserved for the SHIELD Director who had held this information from them all.

“And the fire at Wyndham house?” Ainsley asked Fury as he sat down, Thor beside him with a protective arm about his shoulders. “Was that also a ‘tragic incident’?”

Fury sighed, the young doctor’s voice was steady, measured and precise with a hint of dark sarcasm.  The anger vibrating under it was palpable.

“As far as we can determine, yes,” he replied “an old house with old wiring.  No indication of hostile activity.  It was thoroughly investigated at the time.”

“That’s something I suppose” commented Ainsley, wryly “And my work with the Index, part of your ongoing observation or another test?  Can I expect to be added to it in due course?”

He could feel Thor stiffen slightly beside him as he asked the question.  Downstairs they had discussed a variety of options for going off the grid if necessary.  The Asgardian had no intention of seeing his lover co-opted into SHIELD’s machinations against his will; even if it meant breaking his father’s ban on travelling the Bifrost. 

Fury shook his head; much as it went against his nature, this wasn’t a scenario where he could obfuscate or invoke authority.  If he made a mis-step the whole future of the Avengers Initiative could be at risk

“Not every Gifted person is Indexed” he stated “Like the former HYDRA scientists after the war, some are deemed too sensitive or significant to be put into the system. I was more interested to see how your talents would unfold in a ‘natural’ setting; to see if you could help in uncovering some of the answers we’re looking for.”

Ainsley glanced at Natasha, the two of them knew exactly the question Fury was trying to answer.

“You believe SHIELD’s been compromised, don’t you?

“You’ve seen some of the discrepancies yourself in the Index files and elsewhere” agreed Fury “Blind alleys, loose ends; things that go beyond the compartmentalising of information.  A careful program of mis-direction towards an unknown end.”

“Not unknown” said Ainsley, taking the drink Tony handed him “Your problem’s called HYDRA, and you’ve had it for a lot longer than you realise.”

###

Clint grunted in satisfaction as another spitball hit the makeshift target he’d drawn on the lampshade.  It had taken some time to perfect aiming with a plastic straw and some chewed-up paper but an afternoon’s practise had him on target every time.  He took the straw out his mouth and examined it critically.  Why had he never thought about blow-pipes before? Not great for long-range but for close up work?  Maybe a better was of delivering a dendrotoxin shot than an arrow?

_Face it, Hawkeye, you’re bored out your skull!_

He chucked the straw into the wastebin.  He could just imagine Tony’s expression, and the jokes, if he asked him to help design a better blowpipe.  No, wait a minute, he didn’t want to imagine it.  He wanted to see the sneer and listen to every off-colour comment Stark would make for the rest of the day.  Clint folded his hands behind his head and sighed.  Boredom didn’t really describe it, frustration was the better word.  A carefully cultivated tedium that had him screaming inside to be running over rooftops or firing arrows at something.

A gentle know on the door announced Dr Zabriski’s arrival

“ _Bonjour, M. Faucon_ ” she said with a smile “Are you well today?”

Clint swung his feet of the bed and sat up.  He could understand why Doc was so fond of Helen Zabriski, she came across more like a batty aunt than a doctor; warm, friendly and fond of giving everyone silly little nicknames.

“I’m well, thanks” he replied “Just crazy bored”

She looked up at the spit-ball covered lampshade and laughed

“That I can see!  You wish to be home with your friends?” She gave him a long, careful look “Even if you are still unhappy with them for putting you here?”

“We may have to have a couple of talks” he admitted “But I kinda understand why they had to.”

“That is a good place to start” Helen said, patting his hand “and I see no reason not to authorise your return home.  You seem…  less unhappy than you were.”

That was a good way of putting it, Clint acknowledged to himself.  The last few months had been relentless, one blow after another knocking him back every time he tried to get on his feet.  Maybe bit of enforced boredom was what he’d been needing.

“When?” he asked

“I would like to do one final review this afternoon, purely as a formality” she told him “but after that, whenever you wish.  This evening if you like?”

Clint looked at her in surprise, part of him hadn’t expected it to be that immediate.

“Perhaps you would like a little time to get ready and say goodbye to people?” she asked

“Just Wanda, really” he said “But yeah, this evening would be great if it’s possible”

“It’s possible.” she smiled and took his hand “Come with me, I need to give some good news to Wanda; we’re moving her to be with her brother.”

###

Fury preferred to drive himself whenever possible.  He liked to be in control of his own vehicle, aside from the sense of security it was a rare chance for some real privacy.

Dr Kerr’s assessment had been unsettling, pointedly so.  He suspected the young psychologist had taken a degree of pleasure in that, small payback for SHIELD’s own manipulations.  The notion that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD from the beginning, through the scientists and technicians recruited as part of Project Paperclip, was a hard one to swallow but possessed a brutal logic. 

In the decades since SHIELD was founded it had grown from being an intelligence organisation, specialising in ‘unusual’ technologies and persons, to a kind of invisible state with its own government, military and diplomacy; technologically far in advance of any other parallel organisation and ultimately unaccountable to anyone except its own World Council.  This hadn’t been what Peggy Carter and the original founders had intended, surely?  It did feel more like the infrastructure a group like HYDRA would design for the purposes of covert control.

Objectively, all of this was pure speculation; backed up by nothing other than some reporting discrepancies, which might only be the casual incompetence found in any large institution, and the feeling that a secret agenda was in play behind the scenes.  If he went to the World Council with this, there’d be a new Director by dinnertime; assuming the World Council wasn’t compromised as well.

He’d made a call on less than this before, however.  In the twilight world they operated in, ignoring an intuition could prove fatal.  Perhaps it was time to look a little more into certain contentious projects; Insight for one, and Von Strucker’s experiments in Sokovia.  A careful touch would be needed.  If there was something nasty lurking below the surface, prodding it could prove fatal.

###

Natasha sat down beside Ainsley and took both his hands in hers

“I know this makes no difference to how we feel or think about you;” she said gently “but this is a terrible thing for you to have to find out so suddenly.  How are you feeling just now?”

“Surprisingly calm” replied Ainsley “although that might be due to those wonderful little pink pills Bruce gave me.”

“Care to share?” Tony asked Bruce with a dry smile “You know the rule about these things ‘I hope you brought enough for everyone!’”

“They’re just a very mild tranquiliser” laughed Bruce “You can even drink on them”

“Oh thank God for that!” exclaimed Ainsley “Tony, fix me a G&T will you?”

“So, where do we go from here?” Steve asked

Ainsley’s analysis may have hit home in everyone’s minds but remained in the territory of pure speculation, lacking the objective evidence necessary for solid action and that evidence would be difficult, if not impossible, to pin down amidst a web of false trails and partial clues.

The compartmentalising and stratification of information meant it was impossible for anyone to know exactly what was going on within SHIELD’s labyrinthine structure.  It was the way the organisation guarded its secrets but made it nearly impossible for anyone to have an overall picture.  Clearly not even Fury knew enough about what was happening behind the scenes to come up with a coherent strategy.  The very thing that made SHIELD so powerful might also be working to destroy it. 

“We keep out wits about us” said Bruce “Pay attention to all those odd little things that don’t add up, eventually perhaps they will.”

“You can take point on that!” chortled Tony, filling everyone’s glasses “As our resident paranoid you have the correct skill set.”

Bruce raised his glass in an ironic salute

“If you got it, use it” he acknowledged.

“We say nothing about this to anyone outside this room” added Steve “If there are HYDRA cells working within SHIELD the last thing we want to do is alert them.”

They were all in agreement with that.  If they were right, then any hint could bring about the disaster they were trying to avert.

Tony let out a long sigh

“I think we could all do with a few days in Aspen” He observed “I can get the jet fired up, have a room soundproofed for Goldilocks and Sherlock and the rest of us can enjoy some après ski and clear our heads”

“Don’t you have to ski before you can après ski?” queried Natasha

“That’s very limited thinking” pouted Tony.  He glanced at Steve with a wicked expression “Or we can just fondue.”

“That’s a very tempting idea” admitted Ainsley, checking his phone as Thor nuzzled happily into the side of his neck, clearly already excited by the thought “But maybe not today, that’s Helen letting me know that Clint’s ready to come home.”

Natasha threw a warning glance at Tony who raised his hands in a peace gesture

“No party! I promise!”

###

Tony had learned his lesson from the last time; only the rest of the team were around when Clint came home.  The archer still had a long evaluation process to go through, to determine if he was mentally fit to return to duty, but at least he was back with them; albeit still subdued and withdrawn.  There was a tacit agreement among them not to push too hard, to allow him to settle back in at his own pace.

Clint looked upon from his thoughts as Thor came into the quiet lounge.  The others were out on the terrace, a light snow had started to fall and they were enjoying the spectacle.  Ainsley was finally off the painkillers and was enjoying his fourth gin and tonic of the evening. 

“Do you wish to be left alone?” Thor asked, almost timidly.  The Asgardian was aware he often failed to pick up on the subtle clues of body language and other nonverbal communication.  He did not wish to be an unwelcome intruder on Clint’s privacy.

“It’s okay, Big Blond” Clint said with a slight smile “C’mon in.”

Thor placed two bottles of beer on the table and sat down beside him, fiddling with the zip of the leather jacket he was wearing.  Big Blond was a real fidget when he was nervous or anxious about something, Clint observed, as opposed to the calm before the storm that descended whenever he prepared for combat.

_Guess if he can’t solve a problem by hitting something, all that energy must go somewhere_

“I…” Thor hesitated, trying to collect his thoughts “I am sorry for what I did.  I was afraid you might hit the nurse.”

The look Clint had given him, as he pinned his arms back to the gurney; that confusion of panic and disbelief, still seared into Thor’s memory.  He knew he had done the right thing but still felt ashamed of it.

“You did what you had to do, Big Blond” Clint picked up one of the beers and opened it “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I can’t blame you for that.”

Thor picked up the other beer and turned the bottle in his hands.  He looked at Clint and the archer saw the sadness in those bright blue eyes, how hard the big warrior was trying not to cry.

“Are we… are we still friends?” Thor asked, struggling to control his voice. 

“Sure we are,” Clint assured him, placing a hand on his arm “but we’re going to have to take a break from anything else.”

“I understand” Thor nodded, sadly “You can no longer trust me as you once did.”

“No.” Clint’s retort was firm and emphatic.  He ran his hand through his hair “That’s not it.  You’re doing what I do, Big Blond, punishing yourself for something that’s not your fault.”

He paused and swallowed some beer

“Guess you got blamed for a lot of stuff growing up as well?”

Thor nodded, opening his own beer

“Lo… My brother was skilled at making his mischief appear to be mine.  Often even I would believe that to be so.”  He took a long drink of his beer, emptying half the bottle “Odin Allfather can be swifter to punish than to praise.”

Clint could guess at the world of pain concealed under those words.  He put his beer down on the table and sat back

“My dad used to reckon breathing too loud during his favourite show deserved the buckle end of the belt.  Get hit for nothing often enough and you start believing you must be doing something to deserve it.”

Thor said nothing, the brief flicker of his eyes towards Hawkeye was sufficient.

_Awww, Fuck It_

Clint pulled Thor towards him and kissed him, deep and hard until he had to break for air.

“I still love you, Big Blond; and I still want you” he put his arm around Thor and let him rest his head on his shoulder. “But I gotta take time out from you, and Doc.  I’m getting pulled so many ways in my head right now I dunno which way’s up anymore.”

“It has not been easy for you, I know that” Thor took his hand “We will always be there if you need us.”

“I know you will, both of you, and I’m grateful for that.” Clint paused, weighing his words.  He had to be honest but that didn’t mean being cruel “But I been using you guys to avoid what I really need to be dealing with.”

“You are speaking about your son” Thor said, comprehending Clint’s intention “You seek to be reconciled with him.”

“I made him a promise, Big Blond” sighed Clint “and I ain’t exactly kept it.  Until they clear me to return I need to give Abel 100%, try and undo the damage if I can.  You understand, don’t you?”

Thor thought he did, although he was not entirely sure how seeking to build a relationship with his son meant that Clint would have to cease sleeping with him and Little Bug.  He thought it better not to challenge the man’s logic though.  It would be unwise and he would probably change his mind halfway through their next sparring session.  Thor smiled

“I understand, Clint, and we will keep a place for you in our hearts.”

###

“Mr Barton’s latest report is quite… illuminating, Dr Whitehall”

The slender, well dressed man behind the desk polished his glasses and raised and eyebrow

“Explain, Mr Bakshi?”

“It appears that one of the Avengers, the Black Widow, has been in contact with Agent Coulson and his team.  There is a possibility that Agent Coulson may be contacting Dr Kerr in the near future.”

“That is interesting” said Dr Whitehall, replacing his glasses “and possibly very bad news for the Clairvoyant’s plans.”

“Should I arrange for the Clairvoyant to be informed?” inquired Mr Bakshi.  Dr Whitehall shook his head with a faint smile

“I think not, I’m curious to see if he can live up to his name.  Some of his choices recently have seemed… erratic. 

“Of course, Dr Whitehall” Mr Bakshi paused “Our own plans…?”

“…remain largely unchanged” Dr Whitehall finished, thoughtfully “Of course if Dr Kerr’s involvement is imminent we may need to accelerate the schedule slightly.”

He got up and walked over to the polished wooden box that lay on the table behind his desk.  Running his hands over the smooth surface he opened it, looking in appreciation at what lay within.

“Such elegant simplicity” he traced the outlines of the geometric patterns with his fingertips, relishing the cool smoothness of the metal “and yet possessed of such power.  It may prove necessary to neutralise the Asgardian sooner, rather than later.”

He closed the box and walked over to the drinks cabinet, pouring himself a sherry.

“I’m quite looking forward to an in-depth examination of their physiology.” He raised the glass and inhaled the fine aroma.  “Discovery requires experimentation.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
